


Assimilated

by ivoughrie, Kamaete, Vashoth



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Accessible if you don't know anything about star trek, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Star Trek, Extremis Tony Stark, Half-Vulcan Bucky Barnes, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Identity Porn, M/M, Mutual Pining, Overarching plot but also episodic in the vein of ToS, Slow Burn, We're aiming to make Gene Roddenberry proud, alternating povs, background Steve/Sam, space
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-11-18 04:15:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 55,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11283561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivoughrie/pseuds/ivoughrie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kamaete/pseuds/Kamaete, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vashoth/pseuds/Vashoth
Summary: Space: the final frontier. These are the voyages of the starship Avenger. It's continuing mission is to explore strange new worlds, seek out new life and new civilization, to boldly go where no one has gone before.orThe one in which Bucky Barnes is a commander on the starship Avenger, Tony is an exiled galactic prince on the run, and they fight Borg.[Now illustrated by Kamaete/thegoldenavenger]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [Ivo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ivoughrie) and I started out this project by just speculating how Tony and Bucky would fit into the Star Trek Universe. And now... Well. Welcome to the space epic that we didn't actually intend to write, but now we're here, and it's too late to back out. Also, just as a heads up, this doesn't follow the plot of the original series, or the new movies. It's a Star Trek AU in that we're using that universe as our sandbox. 
> 
> A huge thank you to [Amethystina](http://archiveofourown.org/users/amethystina) for betaing (and being suckered into this universe with us)!! And thank you to the Winteriron Server for being horrible awful enablers. We love you. 
> 
> Bucky's parts written by Vashoth  
> Tony's parts written by Ivoughrie

 

 

**BUCKY, 7**

 

Bucky doesn’t remember much about the Borg themselves. He is seven when they capture the ship. He’s stowed away in an escape pod with his mom and sister before he even gets a good look. The whole ‘being captured’ thing tends to blur pictures with panic.

 

But there are plenty of things he remembers about the Borg ship they found him on. Like that everything-- _everything-_ -was made of a mix between organic and synthetic material. He remembers the weird sound the walls made when the liquid in them pulsed, bulging out and threatening to close in on him or slip away entirely. He remembers everything being an eerie shade of blue, too. But that might’ve been from dehydration.

 

Mostly he remembers the rescue team, their phasers pointing at him and their quiet urgent muttering on their comms as they tried to figure out what to do with the kid they’d found strapped to a medical table. But then Captain Sara Rogers is there and she’s human like his mom is-- _was-_ -and she’s got the kindest eyes Bucky’s ever seen, even if her blonde hair looked a bit blue under the lights of the Borg ship. She asks what his name is, if he knows where his family is, and if his arm is in any pain. She looks worried about all three questions equally, so Bucky decides then and there that he trusts her.

 

That trust waivers oh-so-slightly as she takes him to the medical bay on her ship, the _U.S.S. Brooklyn_ , where a human doctor with cold eyes sits him down on a medical table just as icy and sterile as the one he’d been rescued from. Bucky looks at the captain, barely hearing the words she exchanges with the doctor.

 

“Shouldn’t have brought one of the Borg on this ship, Captain.”

 

“He’s a kid, Nick. He’s maybe Stevie’s age.”

 

“Kids can be assimilated, too. The Borg don’t age. They upgrade.”

 

Bucky hears the instructions to follow the doctor’s finger as the bright penlight shines into his eyes but he ignores it, watches the captain obsessively, desperate for that same reassuring look she’d given him before. But she’s focused on her conversation with the doctor, interrupting the man’s procedures to ask for Bucky’s vitals; heart rate normal, half human and half-Vulcan, approximately five years old--Bucky doesn’t correct him on that last bit.

 

When a needle slips under the skin of his arm and green blood fills the little glass vial, Bucky flinches and opens his mouth to cry out in pain, but nothing comes out. The doctor and the captain both take startled steps back from him and Bucky thinks they should’ve left him on the ship when her face remains grim, hand hovering just near enough to her holster.

 

The needle goes away and Bucky tries to rub at the spot on his skin, but jerks his hand away the second the sensation of cold metal touches. He’d forgotten, and now he’s staring at his left arm instead of the captain and his breathing’s getting faster but he’s not getting enough air and he thinks he might be dizzy--

 

“Hey. Hey, kiddo, it’s okay! It’s okay. Can you look at me? Can you understand me?” the captain says. She kneels on the floor in front of where Bucky’s perched. Bucky pants, a quiet panicked whine as his attention flickers back and forward between the captain and the arm. Her eyes are kind again. “Nod once for me if you can understand. Can you do that?”

 

Bucky gives her a shaky nod. She smiles and just like that Bucky trusts her completely again.

 

Behind her, peeking out from around the corner of the doorframe is another tuft of blond hair and the same bright blue eyes--wide and curious. The captain looks over her shoulder and _tsks._

 

“Steven Grant Rogers you should be in your quarters,” her voice is stern and the smaller replicas of the captain’s eyes get impossibly wider for a moment, before eyebrows furrow determinedly.

 

“He’s just a kid!” Steve’s voice is high-pitched and petulant. “M’not in danger.”

 

“Steve--”

 

“Not like I couldn’t handle it even if I was.” The blond kid stuck his chin out, eyeing up Bucky like he’s expecting a challenge. “He’s way smaller than me.”

 

Captain Rogers sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose between her fingers. She waves the boy over, wrapping him in her grasp, and his eyes light up. The challenging look is gone, replaced by a big bright smile with two missing teeth. Steve squirms out of the captain’s arms, ignores her protests, and darts over to Bucky. He proudly sticks his left hand out.

 

“Hi! M’name is Steve!”

 

Bucky blinks down at the hand in front of him. He vaguely remembers some of the humans that had been on his ship before--

 

He blinks again and swallows hard before forcing a small smile and shaking the human boy’s hand gently.

 

“Bucky,” he says quietly.

 

The captain has stopped trying to tug Steve away, instead grinning in a way that reminds Bucky of Steve, and the doctor beside him is busy poking at prodding at him while he’s distracted.

 

“I’m six years old,” Steve says, nodding his head wisely. He jerks a thumb over his shoulder, bringing back the grin. “That’s my Ma. She’s the _captain_.”

 

Bucky nods slowly. “Cool. I’m seven.”

 

Steve’s jaw drops and Bucky hears the doctor quietly urge Steve to ask Bucky more questions; about where he was born, is he was allergic to anything, or if he has any conditions. The questions gradually got harder and Bucky slows down under the barrage. There’s only so much friendly eyes and a smile can coax out. The doctor asks him if he remembers losing his arm, and Bucky falls silent. A look clouds over Captain Rogers’ face that Bucky’s never seen before. Sad, and sort of distant. A thick layer of exhaustion dulling the same intense concern that shone from her son’s features.

 

“Well,” the doctor hums, “there are no nanoprobes in his blood. The arm is… apparently just an arm. Our guest of honor is not technically Borg.”

 

The flood of tension Bucky hadn’t realized he had been drowning in rushes out of the room and lets him take a deep breath. That’s when the tears decide to catch up to him. Through the film of them, Bucky sees Captain Rogers smile at him, watches as she puts a soft hand on his knee. Her voice is soft too.

 

“You did great, Bucky,” she says and Steve nods enthusiastically next to her. “How about you come home with us, huh?”

 

“I’ve always wanted a little brother!” Steve blurts out. Captain Rogers shoots him a harsh look and Bucky barely registers it over the sharp pang in his chest that stings like the edges of his left shoulder. That his mom and dad are gone. Becca too. That’s why Steve thinks they’re going to be brothers. Because Bucky hasn’t got anyone anymore.

 

He swallows the lump in his throat, and forces on a brave smile when under twin blue gazes full of concern.

 

“Told you, I’m seven. I’m _older_ than you,” Bucky says.

 

Steve grins.

 

* * *

 

 

**TONY, 6**

 

The first meeting Tony can remember with a diplomat is when he’s six. Later he learns that this is too young for most kids to understand what’s happening but Tony is smart for his age, something that his parents love to flaunt. They always claim it would help him when he rules, that the people would like someone with a strong mind in charge. He accepts this as fact, thinking that he would also like someone with a strong mind to rule.

 

He’s six years old and it’s the first time he’s taken off-planet to improve planetary relations somewhere across the galaxy. His mother sits next to him on the ship, smiling softly at him, and even then Tony can recognize it as her supportive one. He returns it and wonders how a child is going to help improve relations at all.

 

When Tony asks, Maria smiles at him again and replies, “You are not there to help. You are there to learn.”

 

“Learn what?” He asks because he genuinely doesn’t understand how any of it will help him, Tony has never been one to take the hands-off approach not even when he’s six.

 

“How to handle diplomatic scenarios properly.”

 

“But I’m not handling it.”

 

“It’ll help when you do.”

 

Tony thinks _what if he doesn’t want to?_ What if he _never_ wants to? But he doesn’t ask. He nods at his mother, pretending it makes sense to him, even though it doesn’t.

 

Tony’s never been off planet before. He’s excited to experience a new one. His hopes are crushed within the first few hours of being on planet.

 

Howard drags him around, telling him various things on how to act on a new planet, how to behave with a new species, talking about social customs. Tony is stuck in political buildings all day. He ends up leaving without seeing much of the planet at all and he thinks that if that’s what diplomacy is then he really doesn’t want it. But he holds out hope that the next one will be better anyway. This was a day trip and sometimes his dad is gone for a week at a time, and surely he must see more than the insides of buildings when he is gone for that long.

 

The next time he goes is much of the same. And eventually he learns that the longer missions are just so there can be more time for talking. He’s restricted to staying on certain grounds for each mission. He meets plenty of diplomats that can tell him about their species and the planet but Tony never gets to see any of it. He tries his best not to be bitter.  

 

* * *

 

 

**BUCKY, 19**

 

Hoodies are a blessing. Bucky’s pretty sure there’s nothing humans have invented since that could even remotely qualify as more important. And yes, he’s including warp drive. But even though he’s got the world’s chunkiest, glitchiest, heaviest, and ugliest prosthetic attached to his left shoulder socket around the structure of his Borg arm, he doesn’t feel the weight of it at all. No, that’s because it’s all resting firmly against the fabric of the front pouch where he tucks his left hand out of habit. The hoodie might look weird over the crisp new Starfleet uniform, but he’ll manage. It’s better than walking with a sway.

 

It was the best Starfleet could do and, to be fair to them, it’s not bad at all. The external prosthetic is made of a mix of hard metals and soft plastics, the innards attached to the arm Captain Sara Rogers had found him with. One that was still more or less fully functional, minus wear and tear and a couple glitches no one could figure out, but remained the same mass (if stretched out and rearranged) of a child’s arm. Starfleet had refused point blank to mess with the internal mechanics of anything resembling Borg tech for purposes that extended beyond diagnostic. Their fear of it remained a constant as Bucky grew. It didn’t seem to matter how many times it was poked or prodded--they still treated it like they expected it to wake up and bite.

 

The existence of the arm--and by extension, Bucky himself--is still classified. Only certain qualified Starfleet medical officers and a select few of the highest ranking Starfleet officers are aware. And even then, it’s a need-to-know basis. A new doctor is assigned to him for observation purposes. The doctor is allegedly specialized in Borg tech, but as far as Bucky could tell, he’s as clueless as the rest of them. He didn’t treat Bucky like threat, though. He’d give Dr. Banner that, at least.

 

Maybe someday they’d find a way to alter the arm itself but even as clunky and awkward as the Starfleet prosthetic is, he is grateful for it. It answers a lot of prying questions before they get asked and makes the secret of the arm itself easier to keep by quite literally masking it. He’s lucky to be alive at all, as people are so fond of reminding him. He could deal with a glitchy arm so heavy that it required the assistance of hoodies not to physically weigh him down.

 

Despite the magical properties of hoodies they could not be reasonably expected to contain the sheer force of nature that is his brother. Stevie, who was supposed to be picking Bucky up after he took his test and got his official photo taken, apparently managed to pick a fight with not one, but _four_ separate Starfleet recruits. His nose is bruised and bloody, and Bucky realizes blandly that he’s not sure he’s seen Steve without a split lip in over a month. So really, the new one hardly counts as a change.

 

He spots Bucky and immediately starts ducking the blows, tries to get away instead of attacking back. In a flash, his scrawny ass takes off towards the huge grassy hills and flying down the beaten dusty dirt road like he was made to do it. Like the little twerp didn’t fucking have every goddamn form of lung condition remaining in the known universe. Bucky sighs.

 

The men that had been ragging on his brother turn to look at Bucky instead and he gets about one second of warning before they’re charging his way instead.  He doesn’t bother holding back when he swings his ungodly heavy left arm, connecting to the man’s nose with a nasty crack. Steve’s yelling at him to catch up, so he primly steps over the collapsed guy while the rest of the little posse stops to gape. Then he takes off after Steve and tries his very best to pretend that the grin on his face is unrelated. Judging by Steve’s matching grin, he does not succeed.

 

Ah, well.

 

Steve’s puffing for breath way before they get anywhere near the farm. Bucky pretends he’s tired and slows down first. Steve still stubbornly pushes ahead for a while--just to prove he can--before giving it up and walking beside his brother.

 

“So?”

 

“So, what?” Bucky eyes him. “I did just fine. Ain’t that hard of a test. Now, you gunna tell me why you had four guys tryin’ to knock your teeth out?”

 

“They were bein’ racist.” Steve drags a sleeve under his nose, smearing blood all over it. Bucky cringes. “Said that it wasn’t fair to let a… a half-Vulcan take the Earth Starfleet test.”

 

“Except they didn’t say ‘half-Vulcan,’ did they?” Bucky raises an eyebrow.

 

Steve’s scowl grows and it’s all the confirmation he needs.

 

“Y’know, I ain’t gunna suddenly bust up into flames just cuz some meatheads decided to be racist. ‘Sides, they couldn’t pass the entrance test if you gave ’em a cheat sheet and a full week, Steve,” Bucky points out with a sly grin and laughs when Steve huffs indignantly. He throws his arm around Steve’s  shoulders and veers them off to the side of the giant red farmhouse Sara had bought when the boys had announced their decision  to join up with Starfleet.

 

The now-retired Captain Sara Rogers has taken to planting fruit trees sporadically across the couple acre plot of land. The wide spread of apple tree leaves makes for several shady spots that shelter the two brothers from the beaming sun. Bucky picks one and flops down onto his back without grace, wheezing a bit as it knocks the air out of his lungs, but not wheezing nearly as much as Steve who tries to copy the trick. Bucky lightly punches him on the arm and grumbles something about being careful. Steve waves off his concern with bloody knuckles.

 

“You sure about this?” Bucky asks suddenly. He tries to ignore the way his stomach twists nervously, knowing all about the wonders and dangers that are beyond that big blue sky. “You don’t gotta follow me in this, y’know.”

 

“That’s no way to speak to your captain,” Steve says, grinning.

 

“Yeah, well, I’ll believe it when you pass the Kobayashi Maru,” Bucky jabs playfully. “‘Til then you’re still just my stupid little brother.”

 

“Whatever.” Steve rolls his eyes, but the grin is still there.

 

“I mean it though,” Bucky tries again. “You don’t gotta follow me in this. Starfleet practically owns me through the arm, y’know? It’s about the only career path I could hope for what with all the check-ins and reports and monitoring--”

 

“You ain’t Borg,” Steve snarls. “I don’t know why they’re still worried.”

 

“Yes, you do.” Bucky shoots him a side glance. “If I did suddenly connect to the hivemind, it’d be some pretty goddamn bad news for everyone around me. They’ve got a good reason to want to make sure I stay… Y’know. Me.”

 

“A stupid reason.”

 

Bucky sighs, but it’s fond. Trust Steve to pick a fight with all of goddamn Starfleet. “Plus, you don’t even know if they’re gunna ever let me leave this rock. The arm’s classified, Steve, you know that. Only my superiors could know the truth and even then--”

 

“Those ranking captain or above,” Steve recites like it’s well practiced and just the right amount of textbook stale.

 

Bucky snorts. “Yeah. Captain or above.”

 

“So I’m comin’ with you,” Steve insists, sitting up on his elbows to shoot Bucky a fiercely determined look that is greatly undermined by the still gushing broken nose. Bucky bites back a laugh. “I’m gunna make captain in record time. Beat you to graduation and everything, you’ll see.”

 

“That right?” Bucky raises an eyebrow.

 

“Yep.” Steve nods once. “Gonna take their flagship for my own. I hear that sucker can turn on a dime.”

 

“No one in their right mind would put you in control of a starship, Steve,” Bucky deadpans. “You’re so goddamn full of fight that you’d fly it right into the _sun._ ”

 

“Would not.”

 

“Would _too._ ”

 

Steve picks up an apple and tosses it expertly at Bucky’s gut and they are laughing again in seconds, pelting each other with the fallen fruit. Bucky makes jabs at Steve being too short to reach the gas pedal and Steve launches himself at Bucky until they’re wrestling in the grass like idiots. He doesn’t say it, but he knows that Steve’ll make a fantastic captain someday. As good as his mom; maybe even better if he got real lucky. Truth be told, someone’s gotta keep the stupid punk from picking fights across the whole universe so, yeah, maybe he’d be alright serving under the newest, stupidest Captain Rogers.

 

“Hey, hey stop for a second, stop.” Bucky whacks Steve’s arm lightly and rolls away, raising his hands in mock defeat. “You gotta promise me that this is really what you wanna do. I know you’d be fine doin’ it, but that ain’t what I’m worried about. Don’t want you throwing away your life outta some stupid sense of loyalty.”

 

The fight leaves Steve’s features and he takes on one of his rare solemn expressions, fixating on the sky above them like he’s trying to find the stars. He’s quiet for a long while, breathing slowly evening out.

 

“It ain’t for you,” Steve says finally. He chews on the inside of his cheek like the words might come out of his skin if he’s persistent enough. “There’s just so much out there, Buck. So many planets we haven’t even made contact with. Cultures and knowledge that we can’t imagine yet. We’ve solved a lot of things here at home, but… We can still do more. Can still do better. I wanna learn how to do better.

 

“Best way to do that is to dive in, y’know? Learn it all first hand.” He shrugs, tilting his head to look at Bucky. “Being able to look after my stupid overgrown brother is just a bonus.”

 

They both look back at the sky, grinning and giddy. In another year, Steve will take his entrance exam and then it’s only a matter of time.

 

Even at 19, Bucky knows that the scrawny kid from the _U.S.S. Brooklyn_ too dumb to run away from a fight will make Starfleet proud someday. And hey, Commander Barnes has a pretty nice ring to it.

 

Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?

 

* * *

 

 

**TONY, 15**

 

Tony’s 15 and he’s at an event that he doesn’t care for. It is tied to a diplomatic mission that he _also_ does not care for. The only thing he does care for thus far has been Bruce Banner’s friendship. Bruce has been the saving grace of the entire ordeal.

 

Bruce lives on the planet. He’s a human--like Tony--but he lives on the foreign planet and has been able to tell him so much more than any of the diplomats or any diplomatic missions ever have. Tony’s eyes light up the first time he meets him and then even more when Bruce says he has a couple of hobbies in science. He says he studies life on various planets; does experiments on them.

 

Now, Tony has had the best schooling available, but he hasn’t done anything like _that_. Any hobbies that he might have had got pushed to the side in favor of him being groomed to be a diplomatic prodigy.

 

“What’s the most interesting thing you’ve studied?” Tony asks Bruce as he watches Howard talk with someone. He’s out of sight, which is the best thing to do around his father at these events. Tony always seems to say the wrong thing at the wrong time. It leaves Howard scowling at him, like Tony personally set the entire planet alight and made them targets for the entire galaxy.

 

“What?”

 

“Come on. You study alien life. There must be something completely bizarre that you have come across. Entertain me, Bruce. I’m going to dictate a hell of a lot of alien life without ever interacting with it.”

 

Bruce sighs but Tony can tell that he isn’t actually bothered. Bruce told him that he enjoyed talking to someone that took such an interest in his work, and could keep up with him.

 

“I have some Borg tech,” Bruce says casually. Like it’s the most natural thing to have technology that everyone is afraid of.

 

Tony remembers learning about Borg tech. He remembers briefly wondering about the capacities of it and what it could do if it were used for something other than the Borg and their purposes. He had gone on a binge, studying everything he could about technology for a couple of months before his parents decided that he was getting too focused on something that wasn’t diplomacy and sent him on more missions than usual until he forgot about it.

 

Tony glances towards Howard, who is still busy mingling. He feels his heart pick up speed as he thinks about the Borg tech.

 

“Show me.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“Come _on_ , Bruce! I never get to get out of these events. I’ve been doing this shit for a decade and I’ve never experience alien life actually _living._  Your place is close, right? We will be back before they even notice.”

 

Bruce looks like he’s hesitating and he spares a glance towards Howard. Who remains busy.

 

Tony needs him not to think about it too much. “I’m sure you’ve thought about the capabilities of it, right? But there aren’t too many that study Borg tech. How many others will you be able to talk to that give you the perspective I will? Come on, you’ll want a mind like mine looking at it!”

 

“One hour,” Bruce says, and Tony was right, he passion for science outweighs his desire to please the people at the event.

 

Tony nods eagerly and follows Bruce out, making sure they don’t attract the attention of anyone on their way.

 

Bruce’s home is more a lab than a home. There’s various things scattered all over the place. Tony briefly wonders if Bruce would be okay with him moving in.

 

He doesn’t ask but instead goes straight for the Borg tech. Bruce has labels on different parts of his collections (bio-synthetic gland, neural processor, cranial implant) and descriptions on each, but there are other things laying around that don’t have much of anything. Tony is able to identify some of the Borg tech, his memory not failing him. Bruce nods and eagerly writes it down.

 

Bruce for the most part lets him study whatever he wants.

 

“Do you have extra of any of these?” Tony asks.

 

“Yeah, some of them.”

 

“Do you mind if I take apart the spares?”

 

“Go right ahead,” Bruce says bringing the ones that are labelled to the front and watching like he’s just as eager for Tony to take it apart his collection.

 

Tony does, and Bruce continues to watch. “Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”  Tony says as he holds up a biochip.

 

“What?”

 

“The Borg are something that we fear but they have all of this incredible tech. Imagine what we could do if we found a way to use it for something more. We could use it to advance human progress somehow,” Tony says.

 

“You don’t want to become one of the Borg, Tony.”

 

“No, I’m not saying that. I’m just saying there might be a way to use it without becoming one them. The only thing stopping us is our own fear of the stuff. We aren’t going to get anywhere if we keep being afraid.”

 

Bruce is silent.

 

Tony starts to panic. He’s said too much. He doesn’t want to be labeled as a Borg sympathizer. He and Bruce get along but Tony just met him this week and this would surely be the nail in the coffin for Howard. Tony may not have embraced the diplomat lifestyle yet but he can’t have people turning against him either.

 

“Sure. It’d be nice. But it’s going to take a long time for people to change their minds.” Bruce looks away, looks at the Borg components that are laid out and says, “Come on, hour’s almost up. We need to get back. They’re gonna notice you’re gone if we stay here much longer.”

 

* * *

 

 

**BUCKY, 23**

 

“Okay, hear me out,” Bruce says, holding his hands up and sort of half-wincing like he expects Bucky to blow a fuse. “I have an idea.”

 

Bucky snorts. “I dunno, Dr. Banner, could you make that sound a little more ominous for me?”

 

Bruce rolls his eyes and his shoulders slump. “Be serious for a minute. This is a serious choice to make. It could have actual repercussions that extend beyond your arm--”

 

“Like what?” Bucky interrupts.

 

“Try some treason charges.” Bruce’s sly smile is back. “Just some light treason, though.”

 

“ _Light_ treason,” Bucky repeats, and raises one brow.

 

“Light treason,” Bruce confirms. “More… Treason by association. Application of already completed treason.”

 

Suddenly it clicks and the wariness leaves Bucky completely.

 

“Ah, so this is about Iron Man,” Bucky says, nodding in understanding.

 

Bruce stutters on his next word, eyes widening, then narrowing suspiciously before he stares down his hands. Which he is wringing with some impressive dedication. The screens behind him that were normally filled with diagnostic material are all filled with text, single spaced and small. Bullet points  are scattered haphazardly throughout the documents and hand drawn graphs lines the borders like after thoughts. To Bucky it looks like the scribblings of a mad man.

 

“Well.” Bruce taps his foot nervously. “Yes. Yes and no.”

 

Bucky stares at him and waits for him to continue.

 

Bruce sighs, then glances at his office door. He quickly shuffles around the examination table where Bucky is perched and presses the door shut. His fingers poke the lock button and he stares at it like he’s not sure it’s enough before moving back towards his desk.

 

All of which would be concerning if Bucky hadn’t spent some years as his patient, the last year or so with him on board the _U.S.S. Avenger._ Over the course of his treatment, he’d grown fond of the mousy scientist and was absolutely sure that Dr. Banner was one of the gentlest and kindest souls he’d ever met. So he shoves the wave of suspicion back down his throat and keeps his face carefully blank.

 

“Yes in that it is Iron Man, yes.” Bruce speaks slowly, still avoiding Bucky’s eyes. “But no in that we aren’t just going to be taking the word of some anonymous user that may or may not be working for the Borg.”

 

Bucky frowns. “But I thought that Iron Man--”

 

“Is under suspicion for those things, as well as information theft, and various other copyright violations, yes, I know.” Bruce sounds almost exasperated. “But to us he isn’t anonymous.”

 

Bucky blinks once. Twice. Realization dawns on him almost comically.

 

“Wait, _you’re_ Iron Man--?”

 

“ _No!"_  Bruce jolts where he stands, hands back up and defensive. “God, no. No, I couldn’t even begin to… No. I’m _not_ Iron Man.”

 

“But you know him,” Bucky says carefully.

 

“Yes.” Bruce nods. “Sort of. I know his identity and I know that he’s not with or working for the Borg.”

 

“That sounds like knowing him to me.” Bucky smiles wanly.

 

“I meant that we aren’t terribly close anymore,” Bruce says hurriedly. “But we were close enough once that I could recognize his work anywhere. And…”

 

He trails off, looking at the stack of papers on his desk. The scribblings all over them that look even worse than the ones on the screens.

 

“And?” Bucky prompts.

 

“And I’ve been doing some research,” Bruce says finally. “His theories check out. There’s no inherent danger to testing them. If they prove to be as practical as they are theoretically sound, it could mean some incredible things for your arm.”

 

Bucky blinks again, then narrows his eyes. He’s heard that bait before. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up. “Incredible things like a more responsive prosthetic? Less heavy, maybe?”

 

“Or…” Bruce shrugs. “What about no prosthetic at all? What if you had a fully sized, fully functioning arm?”

 

Bucky stills. “Is that even possible?”

 

Bruce nods slowly. “According to the data I’ve been analyzing, it’s more than possible. But…”

 

“What’s the catch?” Bucky asks, his right hand running instinctively down the cold metal of his left forearm.

 

“No catch. There’s no risk of activating assimilation that I could find.” Bruce flips through a couple pages. “No risk of nanoprobes from foreign donated tissues--”

 

“Dead Borg bodies, you mean,” Bucky says dryly. Bruce shoots him a disgusted look, and continues.

 

“--just naturally occurring growth that could essentially come from your body’s own programing and the insertion of home-made synthetic limb optimizers,” he finishes, setting the pages down flat again. “The risk is in contacting Iron Man at all. If either you or I are known to be communicating with him, we could get into a lot of trouble.”

 

Bucky nods slowly. “So we’d have to pretend any improvements came from you alone. Would have to pretend not to know him at all.”

 

“Precisely,” Bruce says, nodding in response. “I’ve spoken with him, and he’s fine with it. More eager for the chance to work with your arm than he is for the credit of it--”

 

“You’ve already told him about my arm?” Bucky grins, one eyebrow lifted. “That’s classified, Bruce. Ain’t that already treason?”

 

Bruce _harumphed_ emphatically and glowered at him. “I told you, I know him. I know he’s not a threat--”

 

“Relax, pal.” Bucky waved off the good doctor’s anger with an easy grin. “I’m not going to tell on you. I’m in.”

 

Bruce’s eyes bulge. “You are?”

 

“Yeah, of course.” Bucky nods. “You said you trust him, right?”

 

Bruce nods again, mouth hanging open a little. Bucky shrugs.

 

“Then I trust him by proxy. When do we start?”

 

Bruce stares at him for a minute or so, mouth working silently to form words that never quite make it into sound. He blinks rapidly, eyebrows raised in surprise, and puffs out a breath that takes a considerable amount of tension away from his stance.

 

“Well, how about I set up a secure communication line for the three of us?” The smile comes back to Bruce’s face slowly and he’s got that gleam in his eye that he gets whenever he was about to sink his teeth into something good. Bucky mirrors it with his own mischievous grin, which seems to encourage Bruce further. “I can have it ready in a couple hours.”

 

“Perfect,” Bucky declares, hopping off the examination table. “Plenty of time for me to grab something from the cafeteria. You want anything?”

 

Bruce smiles. “No, but thank you, Commander Barnes.”

 

“You’re welcome, Dr. Banner,” Bucky says with a wink and a nod.

 

He spins on his heel, unlocks the door and ducks out with a skip in his step that gives away more-than-a-little excitement at the possibility of a real working arm. He can’t wipe the grin off his face either, and ends up accidentally spooking a couple ensigns. Whoops.

 

_Worth it._

 

* * *

 

 

**TONY, 17**

 

The problem with having Borg tech as a hobby is there aren’t exactly a lot of other Borg tech hobbyists. And those that do exist aren’t ones that are going to be open about it. Even Bruce had carefully hid the pieces of tech that he had away from the rest of the world. There’s a fear of assimilation if you so much as interact with Borg tech, nevermind actually studying it and searching for it.

 

It was what led Tony to create his online identity as Iron Man. He can’t convince people that Borg tech can be used for good as Tony Stark. His parents have made it _painfully_ clear that his tech is not something that he should continue pursuing after he is ruling. And they don’t even know about the Borg tech part of his hobby. They don’t even know about Jarvis, and there’s nothing Borg about him on the surface. He’s the most innocent piece of tech that Tony has, other than his sense of humor. He doesn’t want to think about his parent’s reaction if they knew the extent of it.

 

The problem with Iron Man, however, is that he is quickly made out to be a fugitive and there’s even a bounty for him that Tony keeps a track of daily. He smirks a little as he watches the number grow as people discuss his identity. His favorite theories are the conspiracy ones, like him being the leader of the Borg and this is just a slow way to get everyone to trust the Borg for a mass assimilation.

 

Despite limited resources, Tony has become the leading expert for all things concerning Borg tech. The community is small but it does exist and those people are thrilled with his knowledge.

 

Tony’s even found one person that actually _has_ Borg tech. Commander James Buchanan Barnes of Starfleet. Okay, he probably shouldn’t have broken into Starfleet’s database and looked at their confidential files, but Barnes has a _Borg arm_ that Tony can’t resist wondering about. So he pulls up Barnes’s file and then gets stuck looking at his picture.

 

Commander James Barnes manages to make Tony’s throat go dry the first time that he looks at him. He snaps out of it quickly. It doesn’t matter how attractive the man is. Tony’s here for the tech.

 

Honestly.

 

In the photo Barnes holds his arm like it’s uncomfortable for him. It’s too stiff and the angle doesn’t look quite right. Anyone else might not question it but Tony knows better. He digs deeper and finds the schematics for it. Sees the upgrades they made over the years, and yeah, it’s a shoddy job. Tony could do better. Tony could _definitely_ do better.

 

He contacts the only person in Starfleet that he knows.

 

“What do you know about James Barnes?”

 

Tony can practically hear Bruce’s suspicion when he gets a reply. “I think I should be asking what _you_ know about James Barnes.”

 

Tony grins. “Not a whole lot. But I think I could do a lot better on that arm of his.”

 

“Don’t think he’ll be too fond of someone poking around at it.”

 

“I’m not just someone. I’m the leading expert on Borg tech, Bruce. Haven’t you heard?”

 

Tony taps on his desk, looking at the picture of Barnes in his Starfleet uniform again, his vulcan ears prominent in the picture, Tony tries to remember what he can of his diplomacy visits to Vulcan but it’s no use, all of the missions have blurred together, but he thinks that if Barnes had been around at the time, Tony might have remembered the visit better. His PADD dings. Breaking him out of his thoughts.

 

“Probably shouldn’t go spouting that around.”

 

“Relax. Think I would contact you and not have taken the necessary precautions? I’m wounded. I can’t believe you’d underestimate me like this.”

 

There’s another long delay.

 

“I’ll talk to him.”

 

Tony sends out an acknowledgement of Bruce’s message and then makes sure to delete every trace of the correspondence.

 

* * *

 

 

 **To:** Banner, Bruce

 **From:** Barnes, James

 **Subject:** Test

 

Test message, as requested. What’s the next step?

 

\--JBB

 

 

 **To:** Barnes, James; Man, Iron;

 **From:** Banner, Bruce

 **Subject:** Re: Test

 

Commander Barnes, allow me to introduce you to Iron Man. I will be responsible for installing any upgrades, so please keep me copied on all correspondence for convenience sake. Beyond that, I suspect Iron Man will have more diagnostics to run before suggesting anything for your arm. As such, please direct those questions directly to the commander. I have attached his file and all recent tests run.

 

Oh, and Iron Man, please remember the risks the commander is taking by allowing this communication. Behave.

 

Best Wishes,

Dr. B. Banner

 

 

 **To:** Barnes, James; Banner, Bruce

 **From:** Man, Iron;

 **Subject:** Re: Test

 

I’ll be on my best behavior, Bruce. Promise.

 

Commander Barnes, I’ve looked over the files that were sent. I don’t think your current situation is ideal, is it? Can’t imagine lugging something like that around. Seems to just be getting worse and worse too.  I’m guessing your mobility has gotten worse over the years, hasn’t it?

 

Running diagnostics is going to be a little difficult unless you want to do a video call, in which case it would just be me instructing you how to move and not two-way video. Have to admit the whole puppet master thing isn’t going to work out for me.

 

Bruce has sent me your tests but you’re going to be able to tell me best what you need so let’s start there. What would you like improved and how could my vast and infinite knowledge help?

 

 

 **To:** Man, Iron

 **CC:** Banner, Bruce

 **From:** Barnes, James

 **Subject:** Re: Test

 

Hate to disappoint, but you may be under a false impression. The arm displayed most prominently in the files is the prosthetic covering what remains of the original. It was installed when I was seven and hasn’t been directly altered since. Whatever they installed with it anticipated growth, but I don’t exactly have the means or materials to keep up with it. So there’s not a whole lot of arm to work with. I’ve read your blog and judging by the intensity of the projects you claim to work on, my arm may not even qualify as Borg tech for you. At least not much of it.

 

Mobility is still not terrible in the actual arm, but it translates poorly to the prosthetic. The prosthetic is, however, necessary. I’ve been told that actual amputation is too risky, and the Borg bits have to remain covered if I want to remain relatively unharmed by well-intentioned friendly fire.

 

Not sure what you’re able and willing to do, but better mobility translation would be nice. Maybe lighter weight material for the prosthetic, too. I understand that it’s necessary to hold what’s left together, and that the weight is likely not something that can be compromised if I need it to be field-ready.

 

As for diagnostics, I will do what I can.

 

\--JBB

 

PS: What do I call you? Just “Iron Man”? Mr. Iron? Mr. Man?

 

 

 **To:** Barnes, James

 **CC:** Banner, Bruce

 **From:** Man, Iron

 **Subject:** Re: Test

 

I am aware of the prosthetic, as I said I’ve read your files. If you want we could get rid of the prosthetic altogether and just work on fixing up the arm. I specialize in Borg tech so we could fix that up proper for you if you’d like.  I can even it make it look like it isn’t Borg tech so leaving it uncovered wouldn’t be too large of an issue.

 

I’m able and willing to do just about anything. Better mobility and lighter material is easy. Come on, you have the leading expert on this sort of technology at your fingertips, what do you really want, Commander?

 

You can call me The Amazing Iron Man.

 

 

 **To:** Man, Iron  
**CC:** Banner, Bruce  
**From:** Barnes, James  
**Subject:** Re: Test

 

The Dubious Mr. Man,

 

Glad to hear you’re so confident. I hope you’ll understand if I’m not as optimistic. Let’s start by making the arm functional without the prosthetic, then go from there. Think you can handle that?

 

\--JBB

 

 

 **To:** Barnes, James

 **CC:** Banner, Bruce

 **From:** Man, Iron

 **Subject:** Re: Test

 

There is nothing dubious about me, how dare you. Your lack of confidence wounds me. I’ll make you eat those words though. I’ll look over your files a little more in depth and then I’ll send you and Bruce the schematics for the new design and how exactly it will need to be done. I should have it ready within the week.

 

 

 **To:** Man, Iron  
**CC:** Banner, Bruce  
**From:** Barnes, James  
**Subject:** Admittedly impressed.

 

The Begrudgingly Talented Mr. Man,

 

The arm works. So far. I’ve attached video of the requested motion diagnostics. I am still waiting for it to fall to pieces, but it seems to be holding up alright without the prosthetic. I’ll admit; I’m impressed. So let’s go ahead and continue forward with making it look complete without a prosthetic to mask it. Maybe you aren’t all talk after all.

 

Though you did miss a golden opportunity for ‘I find your lack of faith disturbing.’ That takes away a few points.

 

\--JBB

 

ATTACHED: Was_shirtlessness_really_necessary.mov

 

 

 **To:** Barnes, James

 **CC:** Banner, Bruce

 **From:** Man, Iron

 **Subject:** Re: Definitely impressed

 

I can’t believe Bruce told me to behave around you and here you are throwing jokes left and right. Vulcans aren’t supposed to joke, you know. Did they not tell you?

 

The only way the arm will fall to pieces is if you do something to it. I’d advise not throwing yourself into situations that can fuck over your arm that much. Actually, try it. I’m curious about what it can withstand and I am told that it’d be hypocritical of me to judge others for recklessness.

 

I already have the plans for an arm without a prosthetic drawn up. Admittedly I finished the other ones much earlier and figured this would be a little more challenging. I’ve gone ahead and attached them.

 

 

 **To:** Man, Iron

 **CC:** Banner, Bruce

 **From:** Barnes, James

 **Subject:** Re: Moderately impressed at best

 

Must’ve missed the memo. Ended up with a Borg arm and everything. Now I’ll never get a date to prom.

 

I’ve attached a photo of the results. It’s not official or diagnostics worthy, but Bruce is working on sending those soon. In my defense, I’m a commander of a Starfleet flagship. I get shot at a lot.

 

The plans look good. Too good to be real. You sure this isn’t a scam?

 

\--JBB

 

ATTACHED: Might_need_new_fingers.jpg

 

 

 **To:** Barnes, James

 **CC:** Banner, Bruce

 **From:** Man, Iron

 **Subject:** Re: The most impressed I have ever been in my life

 

I think they cover how to get a date to the prom as they strip away your sense of humor. I’ll take you to it though, if you’re into intergalactic fugitives at all.

 

That’s really impressive, Commander. Or I suppose I should say that I am moderately impressed. Did you get into a fight with a dragon? Why are there burn marks? That’s not standard from just getting shot at.

 

I am certain it’s not a scam, but I like being told that I am too good to be real.

 

 

 **To:** Man, Iron

 **CC:** Banner, Bruce

 **From:** Barnes, James

 **Subject:** Not a dragon.

 

Sure. Pick me up at eight. Bring a corsage or I’m dumping you. And really, you should call me Bucky if you’re risking life and limb (hah) to protect my honor and sense of humor.

 

Eggo isn’t a dragon and I certainly wasn’t fighting him. I was saving him. He just got nervous. He’s a massive lizard (“Anscombian Four-Fanged Chameleon,” to be exact) native to tundra-like environments, so his body heat is naturally higher than what one would find on similar Earth creatures. Dragons are myths. Aren’t you supposed to be a genius?

 

The arm installed like a dream. Nothing has fallen off yet. Or combusted. But the day is still young. Post-installation diagnostics attached.

 

\--B

 

ATTACHED: Eggo_says_hi.mov

 

 

 **To:** Barnes, James

 **CC:** Banner, Bruce

 **From:** Man, Iron

 **Subject:** That is a dragon

 

Okay Commander Buckaroo, I’ll bring you a corsage and a bouquet.

 

I am a genius and with my genius I can tell you that is the definition of a dragon. He is adorable though, I might have watched the video a few times. Purely for diagnostic reasons, of course. What are you going to do when Eggo (why Eggo?) grows up? I don’t think your captain wants a dragon running around your ship and I doubt that he’ll fit into a Starfleet uniform.

 

Of course the arm installed like a dream, I designed it. I’m basically a dream come true myself. Do your worst.

 

 

 **To:** Man, Iron

 **CC:** Banner, Bruce

 **From:** Barnes, James

 **Subject:** You said ‘do your worst,’ so……..

 

I already regret giving you that nickname. And I don’t know, I was hungry when I named him. He’s still not a dragon. But he will be happy on my mom’s farm. I hear he’s already figuring out how to fly. I’ll attach a video when I receive one.

 

The scorch marks this time aren’t Eggo’s fault. There might have been some lava. Movement is limited in the attached photos because of other torso injuries, not the arm. But I tried to demonstrate it as best I could. Let me know if you need me to re-do it.

 

At the moment the wrist is non-responsive, and only the thumb works. It’s hanging at a weird angle, but nothing I can’t tolerate for a while. Let me know when I should expect to be put back into action.

 

\--B

 

ATTACHED: Dont_freak_out.jpeg

 

 

 **To:** Barnes, James

 **CC:** Banner, Bruce

 **From:** Man, Iron

 **Subject:** It’s not that bad

 

I don’t know why you’d regret that, Commander Buckarino. There should be a rule for that. Like don’t shop for food when you’re hungry, also don’t name your pet dragons when you’re hungry. Your mom must be something if she doesn’t question you sending pet dragons to her.

 

Did you dip it in lava? I can’t figure out how you managed this. I’ve attached a design that uses a new material, should withstand high temperatures so if you do want to go around sticking it in lava it should hold for up to an hour before it starts decomposing.

 

* * *

 

  

**TONY, 19**

 

Tony’s made a habit of running from diplomatic events in lieu of actually seeing the planets over the past four years. Howard and Maria rarely notice. The few times they do they give him disappointed looks that Tony is no stranger to.

 

It’s this habit that gets him taken captive.

 

He’s out during an event with his PADD. He’s looking for designs for tech, studying what he can do for prosthetics. He’s been working on a new design for Bucky’s arm for a week now, and he’s certain that he’s on the verge of discovering something that not even Bucky will be able to destroy--regardless of how much lava or how many dragons he may or may not interact with. And that’s when Tony gets knocked out.

 

 _Stupid,_  is the first thing that he thinks when he wakes. Of course he wouldn’t be able to just  continue getting away from his life on a planet without something happening. He should have known he would get into trouble sooner or later.

 

He finds a newfound hatred for his diplomat life as he hears his captors talking outside the door of the room they’ve left him in.

 

“How much you think we could get for him?”

 

“He’s Howard Stark’s son. He’s a Lagom Ring Council kid. I think we’ll get plenty of credits for him.”

 

Tony feels the panic rise in his chest. Of course, they’re only holding him for ransom. Tony breathes in once, and lets it out shakily. He doesn’t have long to try to control his breathing as he hears a crash outside of the door and the two crewmembers that were talking shuffle about. Tony feels his panic rise again tenfold. It gets worse as the door is blown up, and he’s faced with _Borg._

 

Tony looks for any place to go, anywhere to run. He pushes down the hysterical laughter that’s threatening to come out. He’d always expect to be thrilled about coming in contact with the Borg, but he can’t feel any sort of excitement under the layers of fear.

 

He doesn’t have long to think about it because there’s another explosion, one that he barely registers. He’s not entirely sure where it came from. Later he’ll think that it was one of the crewmembers coming to take out the Borg that had made its way into his room. Right now, he’s caught in the explosion, and he can’t hear anything due to the ringing in his ears and the pain in his chest, and that’s all he’s aware of as he slips away into unconsciousness once again.

 

When Tony wakes the pain in his chest has subsided and the ringing in his ears is not as blaring. He looks around the room and there’s Borg tech everywhere. This would normally be a dream for Tony, if he weren’t sure that he was being held captive on a Borg ship and not there of his own accord.

 

That’s when he starts to wonder where the pain went. He looks down at his chest and sees Borg tech strapped to it. He looks back up at the ceiling, shuts his eyes, as though it’ll go away if he doesn’t look at it. But it’s still there, attached to him and emitting a light that reminds him of its presence even.

 

He can’t find a door to get out, but he’s not handcuffed. He waits for something to happen. For any Borg to show up, but he can’t hear anything outside of the room so he moves. The Borg tech that is on his chest protrudes and Tony knows it would be impossible to hide. He cannot leave it as is if he hopes to continue living his life normally if-- _when_ he escapes. There are plenty of pieces of Borg tech in  the room that he’s familiar with.

 

Tony picks up the pieces he thinks he’ll need to make the replacement and starts to build.

 

It seems like hours pass and he still doesn’t hear anyone. Tony finishes his chest replacement. An arc reactor. It’s easier to hide, still Borg tech but it doesn’t _look_ like Borg tech and it lies flat. Tony thinks he’s done a fairly good job of not panicking after the initial hostage situation. Right now, he has a goal and he can’t panic again. So he sets to taking the thing out of his chest and placing in the arc reactor instead.

 

It lays flat against his chest like he expected. There’s no more tubing or anything protruding. It’s a shoddy job. He could do better if he had more time, but he’s not certain how much time he has at all and he needs to find a way out. He can’t remain on a Borg ship. He’s sure that if he remains for too long he won’t come back human. And he’s never heard of an assimilated Borg keeping their humanity or coming back from it.

 

It takes him a few hours in the end to build everything he needs for his escape. He places the first explosive by the wall, hoping that it's one leading out to a hallway and not to the outside of the ship. Purely based on the way that the room is structured, he's certain that he hasn't guessed wrong. He sits at the other end as he let’s the explosive go off. Sure enough, it opens to a hallway.

 

He makes a run for it, taking the other explosives with him as he goes. He keeps running. There has to be a podbay nearby. He’s able to see into some rooms as he goes, but the Borg are far and few in between and he’s able to avoid all of them. It’s then that he comes across a room that’s filled with more tech than the others. It’s the blood that’s spread on the table in front of him that catches his eye first. There are plenty of vials next to the table and he can guess what happened.

 

He’s heard of the assimilation process. Most everyone has nowadays. There are people trying to fight it, find a way to reverse it, but so far no one has succeeded. Tony knows that the vials must be full of nanoprobes. He glances around quickly and then grabs a few. He’s not going to get another chance, and he’s a scientist, he’s been studying Borg tech for _years_ and he’s never come across nanoprobes. All of the tech he’s found has been outdated and dead, but these nanoprobes are _active._  He takes one last glance around before running out of the room.

 

Finally he finds the podbay. He takes a deep breath and looks around. There are no Borg around--he hasn’t seen many of them. He has a couple of guesses that they’re busy with the others they took from the ship, which leaves him wondering when it was going to be his turn, but that’s not something that he wants to dwell on for long.

 

He sets the remaining explosives by the door to the podbay and makes a run for it. He’s able to get into one of the pods before the entire place blows up. He can see the explosion happening as he pilots his way away from the debris.

 

Tony stops, lets out a shaky breath of relief that he didn’t realize he’d been holding and just watches as the Borg ship falls apart. He doesn’t stay. He needs to find his way back home.

 

* * *

 

 

 **To:** Man, Iron

 **CC:** Banner, Bruce

 **From:** Barnes, James

 **Subject:** Reflex glitch

 

The update you sent over last month seems to work well for the most part. I can now sense pressure and temperature with relative accuracy. Still not sure I want to add in a pain sensor. (See: lava incident)

 

The only bug so far is this weird lag between feeling something hot enough to burn and being able to jerk my arm away. Only lasts about 2 seconds, but a lot can happen in 2 seconds.

 

What’s the recommended fix?

 

 

 **To:** Man, Iron

 **CC:** Banner, Bruce

 **From:** Barnes, James

 **Subject:** Re: Reflex glitch

 

Not trying to rush you, but I don’t think you’ve ever taken more than 24 hours to respond before. Humor me and let me know you’re alive/well. You’ll be pleased to know Eggo (who is still not a dragon) is adjusting well to planetside life. I’ve attached the a video my mom sent.

 

\--B

 

ATTACHED: Eggo_flying.mov

 

 

 **To:** Man, Iron

 **From:** Barnes, James

 **Subject:** Any response would be great

 

Iron Man? It’s been a few weeks, pal. You alright? Tell me I’m just being paranoid. Was it something I said?

 

 

 **To:** Man, Iron

 **From:** Barnes, James

 **Subject:** You’re scaring me

 

Come on, pal. Please don’t be dead.

 

* * *

 

 

**TONY, 21**

 

By the time that Tony is 21, he’s made progress on how to fight the assimilation process. He’s figured parts and pieces of it out. He watches as his creation, Extremis, battles the nanoprobes. It works--it kills them. He knows that this is all in theory, but he has a test and it’s been successful. If he were able to get Extremis injected into an assimilated candidate right after the nanoprobes, it should stop them from being connected to the hivemind. He’s run his calculations, he’s done the experiments and he knows that he isn’t wrong.

 

The only remaining problem is he doesn’t have enough nanoprobes to keep testing the way that he has been. He certainly doesn’t have enough to keep testing until he can find someone willing to be tested _on_. Tony looks at the vial of the remaining nanoprobes.

 

He gets the bit of Extremis that he needs ready. It’s an experimental version that does more than just combat the assimilation. Tony’s had years to study how the nanoprobes connect to the hivemind, and he’s been able to replicate it in Extremis, _almost_. Except instead of connecting to any hivemind, the subject would be able to connect to whatever tech he likes. He’ll always be connected and he’ll get to keep his individuality.

 

No one ever said that Tony wasn’t impulsive.

 

He pauses for a moment. Shuts his eyes, ignores his doubts, and then injects the Borg assimilation nanoprobes under his skin. He thinks for a moment that this would be something even Bucky would scold him for, and he’s had to deal with people believing he might be assimilated at any moment for his entire life. But Tony is running headfirst into the process to prove that he can fight it. Maybe it’ll give Bucky comfort one day if it works.

 

“Sir, there’s less than a 38.3% chance that you will survive this.”

 

“Little late for the statistics there, J,” Tony says, frowning. He can’t exactly extract the nanoprobes now. This is a one way trip and he only has one solution for it.

 

He doesn’t expect to be able to feel the nanoprobes crawling under his skin. In the beginning he doesn’t, but then he can feel them move, and he can definitely feel them start to take a hold of him. He needs to inject Extremis now.

 

Injecting it proves a lot more difficult than it did with the nanoprobes. He’s fighting against his own body, he’s losing control of it and quickly. His hand isn’t steady enough when he finally gets to inject Extremis, but he manages it somehow.

 

Of course that’s when his mom walks in.

 

Tony has done so well of making sure to lock his doors, making sure to hide his Borg hobby. It’s been years and his parents still don’t know that his tech hobby is anything other than regular tech. They have never once found out about the Borg tech even though he spends the majority of his free time thinking of new designs for a Borg prosthetic for Bucky.  Apart from helping him hide the arc reactor, which they had insisted no one knew about. Tony’s made sure to hide everything else.

 

He doesn’t imagine that they’ll take kindly to this. He can’t talk either, he cannot speak as he feels the Extremis virus fight off the nanoprobes in his body. His mother looks absolutely terrified. She stands still in the doorway, watching him, like she can’t move. Tony knows what he must look like, the probes must have been in long enough for his skin to start mottling. But Extremis should fix that, should heal his skin and any other damage done by the nanoprobes, but he knows very well that to anyone watching him it looks like he’s just being assimilated.

 

This was his parent’s fear. That after they got him back and he was cleared they’d find that somewhere along the way someone had missed something and the Borg would still be able to get him.

 

He falls to the floor. He must let out a groan of pain because his mom finally moves, shutting the door behind her and rushing over to him.

 

“Tony! What’s happening?” He hates the sound of distress in her voice. He can’t explain it to her, not right now. But he will be able to once the process is finished. His mom has always been understanding. She’ll understand.

 

“Maria? What happened? I heard--” And there’s good old dad, Tony thinks. He’d laugh if he could.

 

He can’t explain this to Howard. He won’t be able to. His mother is understanding--his father will shun him for any interaction with Borg tech at all.

 

“What is this?” Howard says and Tony can already hear the disappointment in his voice, but that seems to be the only tone that Howard is capable of speaking to him in these days.

 

Tony doesn’t get to hear his mom’s answer as he slips out of consciousness.

 

He was right. He couldn’t explain it to Howard. Extremis is a success. Tony found a way to combat assimilation and all his father sees him as is a Borg sympathizer.

 

“We cannot have the prince--a _Borg_ \--ruling.”

 

“I’m not a Borg,” Tony says for the umpteenth time, as though if he repeats it enough it’ll get through to Howard.

 

“I know what an assimilation looks like!”

 

Tony sighs. He waits for the punishment. He waits for the solution. That’s what his parents do--they figure out solutions, figure out how to keep things under wraps.

 

_“Sir, your heart rate levels are elevated, are you in danger?”_

 

That’s something that’s taking getting some used to, having Jarvis in his head.

 

 _“No,”_ Tony sends back to him. He isn’t as far as he can tell, his heart rate is nothing more than nerves, although he’s hoping that it doesn’t show.

 

Both of his parents have been quiet. They’ve been quiet for too long and it’s reason enough for Tony to worry. His mother hasn’t said a word. She’s just sits back and lets Howard do the talking.

 

“We can’t have you around,” Howard says after a long pause.

 

“What?” Surely he doesn’t mean that Tony has to leave altogether.

 

“If anyone finds out about this, they’ll think you can’t be trusted. I’m not sure if you can be. No one will want you to rule. You’ll have to leave, you’re a danger to us and our people.”

 

Tony was right. Howard is shunning him. “You’re _exiling_ me?”

 

The silence he gets in response is enough of an answer.

 

Tony looks at his mom, she’s pointedly not looking at him. “Mom, _please.”_

 

He thinks he hears his voice crack, but he ignores it. His mom is holding back tears, but she’s not trying to stop what’s happening. Tony can deal with Howard’s disappointment--he’s had a lifetime of getting used to that. He does _not_ know how to deal with his mom not sticking up for him, because that must mean that a part of her believes it, _agrees_ with Howard.

 

“You’ll have a couple days to gather your things and then we will have someone escort you off the planet.”

 

With that they both depart, leaving Tony entirely alone.

 

* * *

 

 

**BUCKY, 28**

 

What’s the worst that can happen? Well, it’s a Borg fighter ship interrupting the _U.S.S._ _Avenger_ mid-warp to unload every missile, torpedo, and laser at them like it’s an art form. And they chose, inconsiderately, to do this right in the middle of his sleep shift. On his weekend. Because _of course._

 

So there he is, 28 years old and faking respectability while he’s standing on the bridge in his goddamn cat paw print pajamas barking orders at Sam and Nat like this is all totally within acceptable parameters. While Bucky’s Unfortunate Visit To Vulcan (as named by Captain Rogers himself) is a top contender, he’s pretty sure he’s willing to concede that _this_ is definitely the worst that can happen.

 

A small herd of ensigns shuffle and titter with distress behind him as the ship veers violently to the left. The whole bridge tilts with it and none of the more experienced crewmen bat an eye.

 

“Sam,” Bucky growls out warningly.

 

“You wanna take over?” Sam snaps back, not taking his eyes away from the flight controls. “This asteroid belt is made of small planets--”

 

“Incoming!” Natasha warns, the radars in front of her flashing an ominous shade of red. “Shields up!”

 

“Roger that,” Clint says from the other side of the room. “Readying torpedos--”

 

“Belay that,” Steve interrupts from the captain’s chair. He’s staring at the cubic ship tailing them on one of the screens to the side. “Commander, what are our odds against a Borg vessel like this?”

 

“Not great, Cap.” Bucky’s hands fly over the controls in front of him and he makes a mental note to ask Engineering to fix his display so that incoming messages don’t show up as pop-ups over the goddamn ship readings. Yes, he knows they’ve been hit, thank you pop up screen. He’s _aware_. “It’s a smaller vessel, but it’s still heavily armed. Likely prepared for a boarding attack. The Borg are unlikely to disengage even if under heavy fire and losses. It would be a fight until first death.”

 

Steve’s silent for a moment, the look on his face reading of the pure determination that makes Bucky nervous.

 

“Sam,” Steve says. “Can you find a path to warp within the asteroid belt?”

 

“ _What?_ ” Sam yelps, determinedly not looking over his shoulder. “Not without taking serious damages--”

 

“What kind of damages? External?” Steve interrupts insistently.

 

“Well, _yeah_ , but--”

 

“Do it,” Steve says in his best captain voice. “The ship can be fixed. We cannot repair lives lost.”

 

Trust Steve to manage to say something disgustingly poetic while under fire. Bucky rolls his eyes.

 

“Man your stations,” Steve yells out and the ensigns that flit between the command centers seem to move at double speed. “Natasha, take shields down to 50% and reroute the energy into cloaking on my mark.”

 

“Yes, Captain,” Natasha salutes over her shoulder.

 

“Sam?” Steve asks, nerves showing in his voice.

 

“Almost got’er there, sweetheart, gimme a sec,” Sam says, distracted. “C’mon, _c’mon…_ ”

 

Bucky’s juggling panicked reports from Engineering, sending back instructions to leave external repair ports immediately while trying to politely give them a heads up that there’s going to be some serious damage to the hull. Probably.

 

“Ready when you are, Cap!” Sam shouts triumphantly.

 

“Nat, now!” Steve orders.

 

The sound of the shield’s hum lessens and the whole ship rocks with a direct hit. Clint’s calling out damage readings to his herd of nervous ensigns. One darts off towards the elevator.

 

“Sam, take us to warp!”

 

“You got it, baby.” Sam’s grinning. “Hold on to something!”

 

And again, those that had been on the bridge from the start of Captain Rogers’ voyage on the starship _U.S.S._ _Avenger_ know that their pilot is not even remotely joking. The new kids they’ve picked up along the way? Not so much. Bucky, Nat and Clint all reach out and grab a couple ensigns each, taking them down to the floor and holding on to the well-worn straps bolted to the bottom of the  consoles with vice grips. Literally, in Bucky’s case. The ensigns too far out of reach seem to take the hint and follow suit just before Sam yanks hard on the throttle.

 

The whole ship shudders and whines ominously, and huge panels the size of states fly off and whip away behind them into stardust, but they make it into warp. _Barely_.

 

Bucky makes sure the ensigns he’d grabbed have a good hold of the console before using his metal arm to drag himself up to see his own control panel. The now modified Borg arm is only covered in plating for masking purposes (making Bucky’s life easier--he doesn’t need to be constantly mistaken for Borg. Or get shot at more often, thank you very much). The innards of it have been tweaked and modded so much that he can think of maybe two parts of the arm that actually came from the Borg. The rest came from Dr. Banner’s clever combination of Borg salvage, research, and plenty of advice from the notorious intergalactic fugitive and controversial Borg tech blogger, Iron Man. Much to Steve’s dismay.

 

Bucky didn’t mind. Iron Man was just a pseudonym, but the man he’d worked with knew his shit. And he was far too… What was a good word for it? _Unique_. He was far too _unique_ to be working for or with the Borg--a race that valued conformity beyond anything else.

 

Iron Man may be wanted for stealing classified information, but as far as Bucky is concerned, the man had been responsible for taking Starfleet’s shoddy patch job and making his arm work like it was real. Better even. The grip he has on the console wouldn’t have been possible with a flesh-and-bone limb. The dents in the side of the metal console ridge were proof enough of that.

 

The screen shuddered and flickered, ignoring his muttered pleas to work for ten bloodcurdling seconds before settling to display way too many flashing warnings and emergency readings. He breathed a sigh of relief and ran his metal fingers over the dents apologetically, glad that the damage was only aesthetic.

 

But that was about the only relief the screen was offering to him.

 

“Stevie, we’re not going to be able to hold warp for much longer,” he shouts. “If you’ve got a plan, now’s the goddamn time--”

 

“Sam, I’m forwarding you some coordinates. Can you take us out of warp there?” Steve ignores him.

 

Sam’s grimace is almost audible. “I mean, I can, but the damages sustained--”

 

Clint calls out damage reports that are increasingly alarming.

 

“Can you do it?” Steve asks again, insistent.

 

“For you, baby?” Sam grins at him, nervous. “Anything.”

 

Bucky shoots them both wary looks, but doesn’t have time to ask questions before Sam’s pulling back on the throttle and he’s knocked back against the communications screens. One of them cracks, and a live current goes through his (thankfully) left arm, making his heart beat just a little too quickly for a moment and his skin feel like he’s being pricked with pins and needles. He yanks himself away from it quickly and stares at his arm, waiting for the visible crackles of electricity around it to subside.

 

He presses his back to the wall and holds on, watching the screens for signs of the Borg ship as Sam drags the battered vessel through another asteroid belt and hurtles towards a planet circling the soft light of a dwarf star.

 

Bucky squints. “Is that--?”

 

“ _Yep,_ ” Steve says, and Bucky can hear his grin.

 

“You’re an idiot,” Bucky laughs.

 

The planet was one they’d gone through a whole obsessive phase over during their sophomore year at Starfleet. The people on it had reached the point of advancement where the Federation deemed them ready for first contact. This had yet to happen because, despite their advancement as a society, they managed to get there without inventing a single piece of electronic technology. Everything had been done with the natural plant and animal life on the planet. In short? It was _fucking cool_. And no one wanted to be the first to disturb them or change that.

 

Except in case of an emergency. Then Steve Rogers was apparently just fine with using their perfectly untouched atmosphere as a haphazard cloaking mechanism, presumably to hide their energy patterns by pretending to be an electrical storm. They’d seem like a small blip in the middle of nowhere--nothing remarkable. If they showed up through the thick atmosphere at all. It was brilliant. And so very Steve to make a first impression by literally crashing face-first into the planet.

 

“Quit speaking your weird secret brother language,” Sam snaps as he pulls the ship into something that certainly feels like a barrel roll. “It’s distracting and I’m trying to-- _fuck_ \--trying to save our asses!”

 

The atmosphere of the planet is rapidly approaching and Thor is rattling out something to flight control in a language Bucky doesn’t even recognize. The giant hulking blond man never stops talking as he turns and gives Bucky a thumbs up.

 

“We’re cleared for landing, Sam!” Bucky shouts.

 

“' _Landing’_ might be optimistic,” Sam shouts back.

 

Fire breaks over the front cameras and huge curling clouds look like something out of a painting before the _U.S.S._ _Avenger_ blasts through them, leaving a trail of smoke behind it in its wake. The planet is as green as he’d imagined the first time he and Steve had read about it in Starfleet Academy.

 

“Welcome to RK-702,” Steve says, all good humor and bravery as they are rapidly falling towards the surface. “Nat, swap all power back to shields!”

 

The shields hum back to life just seconds after they cross the last huge air pressure shift, comfortably cloaked by the planet’s thick atmosphere and unbroken ozone layer.

 

“Take us down gently?” Steve asks Sam hopefully.

 

Sam barks out a laugh. “When am I anything but gentle?”

 

Bucky snickers and braces for the crash.

 

* * *

 

 

**TONY, 22**

 

When he first got exiled the last thing Tony expected was to become a god for a primitive civilization. It’s not even that they’re not advanced--they are--it’s just not in the way that Tony is used to. Everything on RK-702 is done through planet life and biosystems. They have structures built all over the place that are truly remarkable.

 

But the point is: Tony slipped up. They saw him use some tech and now they think he’s a god. Which doesn’t sound awful in theory, but he knows that he can’t stay here for much longer. He can’t have people knowing where he is. And if an entire planet keep building statues and temples in his honor, he thinks that word might get out about where he is located.

 

The whole plan had been for him to go to a remote location, one where he wouldn’t be found. Well. He certainly got that. If anything, it was _too_ remote.

 

The frown on his face as they build his _temple_ must show because the king of the civilization frowns back at him. “Is it not to your liking?”

 

“No, no. It is perfectly fine. Even better than the giant statue of me that you plan to put outside of it. Although I would still prefer it if I weren’t _naked_ in the sculpture but. Hey, I get a giant statue made of me. I guess I shouldn’t be too picky.”

 

“If it does not please you we can start again,” the king says as though he doesn’t believe Tony, which is fair. Tony doesn’t even believe Tony most days.

 

“Absolutely not.”

 

 _“Sir, I would advise against anymore structures being built in your honor.”_ Tony starts to wonder why he ever thought that installing Jarvis was a good idea. It’s like having a voice of reason all the damn time, which he supposes  is something most normal people have, but he’s never been like most people.

 

_“If I stop them now I might offend them, and I’d rather not be a sacrifice for their next god.”_

 

 _“Of course, Sir.”_ Tony can hear the sarcasm and he has to resist rolling his eyes so he doesn’t offend those around him.

 

Tony’s aware of the ship before it lands. Or at least Jarvis is.

 

_“Sir, I detect an unknown space vessel coming towards us at an alarming rate.”_

 

_“Crash landing?”_

 

_“It would appear so.”_

 

The moment that he gets confirmation, a crash landing does actually happen. It lands on the outskirts of town, just far enough in the distance that no one is injured by it but close enough to cause a panic. He thinks he hears some of the natives going on about how they did not mean to offend him with the temple and they will try to appease him to prevent another incident like this one, but he ignores them.

 

The vessel in front of him is _Starfleet_ ship. It’s a Starfleet ship that even looks familiar but Tony can’t place it.

 

“ _J, what can you tell me about the crew?”_

 

_“No casualties. The vessel has sustained damages that need immediate attention before it will be able to fly again.”_

 

Tony can work with that, he hasn’t done much work on starships but he’s confident in his abilities, and he needs to get off the planet so he runs towards the ship. Tony ignores the looks of the natives as he runs by them and out of the main town area. He knows that they won’t stop him, they wouldn’t risk upsetting one of their gods. When he reaches the crash site he begins walking around it looking for the problem, if it’s something external he could fix it, and then find a place to stow away and be out of this place.

 

He’s found one of the many problems and its solution when someone walks up behind him.

 

“Stay where you are.”

 

Tony turns around to look at whoever interrupted his very important project and is instead faced with a phaser pointed at him.

 

 _The man looks familiar,_ is Tony’s first thought, but he can’t place him. His face is covered in soot and Tony thinks maybe if it were clearer he would know. He can’t recognize the paw  print pajamas either, but he doesn’t think that's a sight that he’ll forget anytime soon. Tony doesn’t normally get a phaser held to his head by hot men in animal print pajamas, but it’s not the strangest thing to happen to him today. He can’t recognize much but he can recognize the vulcan ears, can see them poking out from under the strands of hair that have fallen out of his messy bun. Tony continues to look at the man, continues to be bothered that fact that he can’t place the face and then he sees the arm.

 

The unmistakeable Borg tech arm.

 

Tony _knows_ that arm. He’s worked on that arm himself, has practically studied it inside and out for years.

 

It’s _him._

 

* * *

 

 

**BUCKY, Still 28**

 

To Sam’s credit, he had managed to land the massive vessel entirely in a body of water that had been stunning. It had had those cool little tide pool circles that had shined with bright blues and greens in the clear water. Up until it was full of flaming, smoking, crashed federation flagship, at least. Those were probably gone now.

 

The ship had skidded across the surface, fires extinguishing in the spray of water and leaving behind a trail of thick white steam until the hull had come to a creaking halt against a rocky shoreline. At least it looks sorta rocky on the screens from where Bucky is. He is currently laying on his back on what was supposed to be the ceiling of the bridge, clinging to one of the ceiling vents with his metal arm and probably squeezing the life out of the two ensigns he’s managed to keep a hold of. But they were safe. Ish.

 

“Everybody alright?” he wheezes through the heavy smell of burned electronics, coughing a bit when he tastes smoke. He gradually releases his grip on the ensigns, making sure the ship had actually come to a true stop first. The younger of the two clutches at her waist like it pains her, right where Bucky’s arm had locked around her. Bucky winces. “Sorry. You should go see Doctor Hill about that. She’s got a great ointment for bruises.”

 

The ensign nods, looking a little queasy. The other slings her arm around her fellow crewman’s shoulders and helps hoist her to her feet. They both shoot unnerved looks at Bucky, who tries not to squirm under their gaze. He self consciously looks at his arm. A couple of the plates came loose in the ordeal and the ominous looking tech beneath them glows a soft blue. He yanks his arm free from the all but crushed vent and covers it with his real one, his hand over the largest hole.

 

“Looks like everyone’s alright.” Steve sounds winded, but he’s kneeling next to a groaning Sam, his hand broad against the man’s forehead.

 

Bucky can’t catch the murmured soothing, but Sam doesn’t look to be bleeding or terribly wounded. Bucky stuffs the urge to cart the pilot off to medical bay and lets Steve carefully pull Sam into a sitting position. Steve wraps his arm around Sam, and rests their foreheads together in a display of affection that leaves Bucky torn between smiling like an idiot and making loud gagging noises at his brother.

 

So he decides to ignore both options in favor of doing some recon.

 

Natasha is by him in seconds, her eyes flick to his torn sleeve and linger on the place where Bucky’s hand covers the innards of his arm.

 

“Are you hurt?” she asks, and Bucky wonders not for the first time if the lieutenant had somehow already figured out the big secret. Not that it would bother him. He’d trust Nat with the secret willingly if protocol allowed him to.

 

“Just aesthetically,” he replies with a wry grin. “Might need a little extra beauty sleep, but I’m fine.”

 

She eyes him critically, taking a moment to assess for herself before nodding.

 

“Good. Then disembark as soon as you can and help me assess the damage.” She shoves a scanner into his hands that he fumbles with for a second. “Clint needs to get reports to Engineering as soon as possible.”

 

“Y’know,” he grumbles, “you can’t just give me orders. I _outrank_ you.”

 

She feigns a distraught expression. “Oh _no!_ Am I in trouble, Commander? Sir?”

 

Bucky swats at her arm and she grins.

 

“I’m sure my superior officer will forgive me for valuing urgency over formality. He’s a stickler for efficiency,” she says smugly. “Besides, you’re wearing your kitten PJs. Not terribly commanding.”

 

Bucky looks down. Shit, he’d forgotten about that. Sure enough, the tiny little paw prints patterned all down his pants are covered in a layer of soot and grime, but are otherwise as clear as day. At least he’d had time to put on a shirt. Even if it got ripped. Not that he's bitter about it.

 

“Shit,” he hisses. “Please tell me the west quarters are still accessible?”

 

“Nope,” she says, taking a little too much delight in the answer. “You’ll have to stay as you are. Don’t worry. I have a spare weapons utility belt you can borrow.”

 

He scrunches up his nose in distaste. “The one that hangs around your waist?”

 

She nods, launching herself off the ceiling and grabbing onto one of the extended drawers at her station for leverage. Bucky watches, tired just from watching the feats of acrobatics, as she maneuvers herself to grab at a different drawer and yank it open before letting herself drop back down to the ground. Ceiling. Whatever.

 

Out of the drawer falls the aforementioned belt, slim and well polished, and way less handy than traditional holsters.

 

“It’s cuter,” she says, shrugging. Then she eyes him slyly. “ You could probably use a boost to your current fashion.”

 

“Shut up,” he grumbles, but there’s no real malice to it.

 

He snatches up the belt and locks it around his waist, feeling a bit ridiculous as he wades his way through the wreckage to the nearest emergency hatch. He twists the handle viciously and studiously ignores the ominous crack from his left arm. He’d deal with Iron Man bitching him out for not being careful later. First things first.  

 

As soon as he pokes his head out of the escape hatch, the smell of sweet air hits him like a wave fresh from a bakery. There’s no bitterness to it, no thinness that came from years of pollution and filtering. It hangs thick and heavy and he can feel the displacement of it whooshing past him into the thin artificially produced environment on board the _Avenger_.

 

He takes a second just to savour it, to stare at the beautifully braided trees that form something like a skyline across the body of water they’d crashed into. If he ignores the pillars of steam and smoke, the whole planet seems as peaceful as he and Steve had once speculated.

 

Until he hears something distinctly metallic banging against the hull of the ship, somewhere off to the right. Bucky frowns and uses the strength of his arm to haul himself the rest of the way out of the escape hatch. He slides down the smooth plating of the ship’s exterior, leaning and rolling to avoid the obvious spots that would need at least a little patchwork, until his boots hit the dirt.

 

Bucky adjusts as best he can under the utility belt, still not delighted about the added accessory to his already not fantastic look, but now wasn’t the time. He brushes off the fronts of his pajamas, and kneels down to tug at his laces until they are snug and secure.

 

The clanking, however, only gets louder and more insistent. Like knocking, but more obnoxious.

 

“I’m comin’, I’m comin’,” he grumbles at the ship like it had any capacity to soothe itself, and takes off in a jog towards the direction of the commotion.

 

The first thing he sees is the metal panel he’d heard making all the noise, crunched up against one of the more jagged rocks and slowly slipping off it’s hinges entirely. It falls to the ground with an air of finality and a cringe-worthy crash that makes his hand hover over the grip of his phaser out of force of habit. Another plume of smoke is radiating out from blinking controls and there’s a whirring noise that probably isn’t good.

 

He’s about to get closer when someone beats him to it.

 

A short-ish man with messy black curls hops and skips around the jagged rocks like they come as no surprise and gets up close and personal with the ship without hesitation. Bucky doesn’t recognize him from the crew, but he’s not daft enough to think he’s got everyone on the massive ship memorized. A quick once-over confirms that the man isn’t wearing any Starfleet insignia. Or any insignia at all.

 

More interestingly, he’s definitely human.

 

RK-702 hasn’t yet been touched by anyone from the Federation. Nor has the planet sent out any explorers of its own. Both parties have seemed content with a quiet awareness of each other being the maximum amount of contact. So non-native lifeforms are definitely not to be expected. Human ones least of all.

 

And yet, the man pokes and prods at the exposed electronics, unaware and uncaring that all accounts of the planet indicated that he isn’t supposed to exist.

 

Bucky’s eyes narrow as a thought occurs to him. Borg attacks could certainly happen at random--it was more of a matter of chance. In that if you ran into them, they attacked. It might’ve been a coincidence, or… Well, it wouldn’t be the first time a stowaway had an agenda of their own. Bucky quietly pulls his borrowed phaser from its holster and slowly approaches, careful to keep out of the man’s line of sight until he is ready.

 

“Stay where you are,” he directs, trying to sound stern but the smoke that had caught in his throat crackles at the ends of his words.

 

The man stills in the middle of his workings. He’d been so animated moments before that it’s almost comical. Apparently, he’s content to completely ignore instruction as he turns around to face Bucky.

 

Bucky blinks, staring back at inquisitive brown eyes that look directly at the phaser, at Bucky’s face, at his whole person, and then snap back to his face again. The man looks alarmed, maybe, but not scared. Curious, more than anything else. His hands are still half-raised from poking about at the open panel, and stay hovering where they are, like he’s worried he’ll spook Bucky.  Bucky frowns.

 

“Who are you?” He tries for gentle, but it still comes out a bit harsh. Doesn’t matter, though. It’s a simple enough question.

 

“Really wouldn’t point that thing at me,” the man says, quirking an eyebrow up and visibly trying to suppress a smirk. “I’m sort of a deity around here.”

 

Bucky pauses, eyes narrowed, going over the words in his head a few times before concluding that the man in front of him is clearly out of his fucking mind. Great. _Perfect._

 

“Are you armed?” Bucky tries again, hoping that maybe he can at least avoid a goddamn shootout during the first ten minutes on a foreign planet. But he’s not terribly optimistic.

 

“Nope,” the man chirps, hopping down from the rock he’d been balancing on and moving closer to Bucky. Bucky raises the phaser higher, obviously aiming at the man’s head, and he stills again. There’s still no sign of fear on his face. In fact, the man grins, looks Bucky over again like they’re strangers at a bar, and tilts his head a little to the side before continuing. “Do you need to pat me down? It’d be the first time a guy in kitty paw pajamas has felt me up, but I won’t complain.”

 

Bucky gawks openly for a second. This… This is not how he expected this to go. He looks down at his hands and there definitely is a phaser there, not a banana or something, and the man in front of him who claims to be a deity is _flirting_ with him. Bucky flicks off the safety on his phaser, taking comfort in the hum of the weapon powering up. It was set to stun, of course, but this guy didn’t need to know that.

 

“You still haven’t told me your name,” Bucky accuses. He gestures with the tip of the phaser back at the open panel. “Were you tampering with the ship?”

 

“Tell me your name and I’ll tell you mine,” the man practically sing-songs, looking up at Bucky through thick lashes. “Wasn’t tampering so much as fixing it. I’m doing you all a favor.”

 

Bucky’s face must radiate the confusion he feels since the man gestures over his shoulder at the ship, then broadly at the woodlands behind Bucky like it was obvious.

 

“I figure you’ll want to get out of here, and regardless of my god status I would also like to get out of here.” He smiles tightly and runs a hand over his beard, smoothing it down. “So, what do you say? Think we can work something out?”

 

This was why they sent Thor on diplomatic missions, Bucky thinks miserably. He never knows what’s going on. The man wants to fucking barter for something, is claiming to be a god, and still hasn’t  told Bucky his goddamn name. All while being held at the wrong end of a phaser. And somehow--somehow--still confidently looks like he is offering Bucky the deal of a lifetime.

 

“So.” Bucky speaks slowly. Maybe that will help. He gestures again at the open panel. “You _did_ mess with that?”

 

“Was about to. Sort of--”

 

Perfect. Bucky can work with that. “Then I’m gunna have’ta place you under arrest.”

 

He moves swiftly towards the man, a little gratified to see that he looks at least a little shocked. That is probably a good sign. Means Steve can reason with him. Or at least spend a few frustrating hours trying. Either way, not Bucky’s problem.

 

“This is a Starfleet vessel; unauthorized personnel interfering with the vessel integrity are at risk of several criminal offenses. I’ll be takin’ you in and you can make your case to Captain Rogers,” Bucky explains, phaser still aiming at the man’s chest. He pauses, searching the man’s face for some sign of sanity. Big brown eyes stare back at him, still either blissfully unaware of the danger, or utterly uncaring. Neither option is comforting. “You gonna give me your name or do I gotta start takin’ blood samples?”

 

“Fine. The name is Tony,” the man says, sounding anything but appropriately concerned for his situation. He sounds like he’s barely masking his delight. “Although you might want to preface it with ‘God’ if you’re not going to let me fix the ship and you plan on staying here for a while.”

 

It takes all the years of professional training Bucky’s got to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Never take eyes off the target. Even if they’re unarmed. Especially if they’re batshit insane.

 

At least this Tony guy isn’t insisting on ‘The Almighty’ or some other crock of shit.

 

Bucky does allow himself a sigh. One year into their five-year mission and he is standing on a foreign planet in his pajamas, arresting a god at gunpoint. This issn’t exactly what he’d imagined.

 

“That’ll be Captain Rogers’ call,” Bucky says, carefully keeping the smug implied ‘and not my problem at all’ unspoken. He gestures with the gun for Tony to start moving, and thankfully the man complies. He shoves his hands in his pockets, and walks ahead of Bucky confidently, not at all bothered by the weapon still trained on him. Bucky decides to push his luck. “You gotta last name, Tony? Gonna need that too.”

 

Tony looks over his shoulder at him and smiles. “Would you believe me if I said I didn’t?”

 

Yep. Pushed his luck too far. A god with only a first name. Like Cher. Nat is going to have a field day with this guy.

 

Tony’s smile wilts into a pout. “Right, so are you just going to continue communicating in various annoyed expressions? Not very polite, you know.”

 

Bucky nudges him forward with the phaser and he seems to get the hint. Or decides simultaneously that he would rather be walking that direction anyways. Bucky is sharply reminded of the expression regarding ‘herding cats.’

 

“Lower cells it is, then.” Bucky shoots his own smile back at Tony, not bothering to keep the traces of ice from it. “I’m Commander Barnes. Welcome to the _U.S.S. Avenger_ , Tony, the God with no last name. Your appointed counsel will be videoing in shortly.”

 

They are barely a few meters from the next boarding port, but Tony just can’t seem to help himself. He whirls around, facing Bucky, delight coloring his features.

 

“Cozy.” He grins, somehow making the word suggestive with the jut of his chin and biting at his lip. Bucky feels his scowl sharpening. “Can’t complain much, although the last place I was in had statues built of me. Think we could arrange that? I’d take a miniature one. Just to put on my bedside table--”

 

Tony’s abrupt stop is not due to any sudden bequeathment of divine judgment, late as it might’ve been. Bucky stares down at the man’s unconscious form, unimpressed. The nerve pinch was probably unnecessary. Steve would undoubtedly chide him later. But he isn’t part of the diplomacy team, and he certainly hasn’t been trained for… whatever the hell Tony is. An _oddity_.

 

Bucky tucks Natasha’s phaser back into its holster and allows himself another long-suffering sigh before he kneels down to scoop up the unconscious form in his arms. Tony’s head sags against his chest and Bucky can’t help but notice that the man is remarkably light. He’s smaller without the radiating personality shining through every unfathomable decision, but Bucky’s arm still crackles and snaps at him in distress. His mood sours further. He has no idea how he’s going to go about explaining the damage to Iron Man.

 

‘Oh, y’know, smashed into a planet then nerve pinched a god.’ Fuck _that_.

 

Bucky just wants to go back to bed.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 **To:** Man, Iron

 **From:** Barnes, James

 **Subject:** Don’t ask.

 

Need some serious repairs when you’ve got the time. Can’t go into specifics. Lieutenant says confidentiality is a _thing_. All I’ll say is that I’ve never had less faith in religion as a whole.

 

Hope your day is less crazy.

 

\--B


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Did you miss us?](http://alexanderlozada.com/iasip/?IkJ1Y2t5IEFycmVzdHMgR29kIg==)

**TONY**

 

Tony has imagined meeting Bucky Barnes a million different times, in a million different ways. He used to think about it often whenever he got an email from him. Would think about meeting Bucky on a diplomatic mission his parents dragged him to, would think about meeting him at Starfleet. He even entertained the idea of Bruce introducing them in person at times. Some of his daydreams weren’t as realistic. In some of them he wasn’t galactic prince Tony Stark, and he was able to join Starfleet like anyone else. They’d meet at the academy or even aboard Bucky’s ship. The point is, Tony has been dreaming of this moment for five years and none the scenarios he thought of come even close to the real thing.

 

Okay, so Tony _probably_ should have told him who he was instead of riling him up. But Tony’s never been able to resist having a bit of fun and the increasingly confused faces that Bucky had made were adorable. Apparently he went too far, however, because Bucky had nerve pinched him.

 

Getting nerve pinched causes one hell of a headache, as Tony is quick to find out. It’s not at all helped by the bickering that is happening outside of his cell. Bucky is talking to someone Tony doesn’t recognize, and both of them are too caught up in their conversation to pay him any attention.

 

“The Starfleet directive is _obviously_ not applicable,” is the first thing he’s able to make out once the ringing in his ears stops.

 

Bucky looks at the other man like he’s ready for a fight. “We got permission to land! They _granted_ permission to land!”

 

“It wouldn’t be the first time a civilization was technologically advanced enough for space travel yet remain culturally unprepared--”

 

“Ain’t that their call?” Bucky cuts the man off. He’s looking more irritated by the second.

 

The way Bucky looks is completely different from what Tony’s used to. He doesn’t look anything like the man that sends him videos of dragons. He’s more on edge. Tony hates it.

 

He had always expected that the first time he met Bucky, it would be in a situation where Bucky didn’t look so stressed. Tony can’t do anything to help him either, since he’s apparently already decided that Tony is someone to arrest. And nerve pinch. Tony figures he must have done _something_ to rub him the wrong way.

 

“It is, yes, but electric technology clearly caught them so much by surprise that they assumed it was magic.” Tony lets out a soft snort, but neither of them notice. “And that he is--”

 

“--a god,” Bucky finishes for him. “Jesus, Stevie, what the hell do you expect me to do about _that_?”

 

Tony’s been trying to figure out an answer to that question for weeks. The only solution he’s come across so far is getting off the planet, but he hopes that the man, _Stevie,_ has a better answer.

 

“I don’t know,” he says and Tony quickly loses hope. “Maybe just avoid contact altogether? Let the federation reassess the planet for external contact. Could be that they are used to radio traffic from just being in the Lagom Ring. They may not even have realized what they were granting permission for, y'know? And I don't feel right about taking ore from them without asking first.”

 

That Tony _does_ have a solution to. He’s suddenly very happy about being a god because it means he can get ore easily. If Tony’s learned anything in the past few months, it’s that the natives never question him when he tells them something.

 

“Yeah, besides, if they see our drill we’ll have a whole damn Pantheon of issues,” Bucky says and Tony thinks that’s a bit of an understatement. The natives built temples just because they saw Tony tinkering with a new arc reactor replacement. Thankfully, they only saw it in pieces before he actually put it in. The arc reactor hadn’t even been a _finished product_ and they made him out to be a deity.

 

“Right, and the last thing we need to do is shock them more before the Federation can make a call. Reach out with some careful diplomatic efforts. Either seal RK-702 off from external contact for a while or… I don’t know. Teach them about different forms of technology.” Tony thinks that’s an awful idea. The natives will raise monuments in the name of anyone who tries teaching them anything at all. “So that they aren't so shocked by--”

 

“A half-mile wide ship crash landing into their ocean?” Bucky says dryly, and that’s more familiar to what Tony’s used to. “Shit. _Shit,_ Steve. I arrested _God._ ” Tony rolls his eyes in his cell--it’s a little late for that reaction. Bucky should have reacted like that when Tony first told him not to point a phaser at him.

 

Steve smirks and shrugs at Bucky. “I still think it’s not as bad as your Unfortunate Visit to Vulcan.”

 

Tony raises an eyebrow at that, because there’s a story there. “Shut up, this is serious,” Bucky says, and, yes, there’s definitely something there that Tony _has_ to know about. He makes a note to ask about it later.

 

“Believe me, I know. Without that ore we're grounded indefinitely. So unless you can convince that god of yours to vouch for us, we're just going to have to sit tight, wait for Federation ambassadors to come pick us up, and hope that we don't cause too much damage in the meantime.” Right. As much as Tony is enjoying waiting to see how long before they notice him, this is as a good time as any to speak up and let them know that he has a solution, but they continue before he can interject.

 

“All the more reason to send someone else,” Bucky says, looking like he wants to do anything but try a diplomatic mission. “‘Sides, it ain’t like I’m hurting for something to do. And with my arm like it is--”

 

Tony has noticed the arm. But Bucky doesn’t know him as Iron Man yet, and it’s not his place to ask.

 

“You’re kidding me,” Steve says, sounding far more upset than he had about anything in the conversation so far.

 

“What?”

 

“You’re not actually going to contact him after this,” Steve says disbelievingly. Tony flinches--he has a feeling he knows where this is going. He decides that he can wait to speak up after all.

 

“The hell are you on about, Stevie?” Bucky’s back on the defensive again, which Tony hasn’t grown any fonder of in the minutes that have passed since it last happened.

 

“We just barely survived a Borg attack,” Steve says.

 

Tony tries not to focus on that for too long. He wonders where they were attacked and why the Borg were after them. But those are questions for another time.

 

“And I know you trust him,” Steve continues, “but we have to face the fact that this coincidence might not be a coincidence--”

 

Tony winces. That’s why he keeps his identity a secret. His parents already think of him as a Borg sympathizer. Anyone recognizing him as Iron Man wouldn’t help his case at all. Steve doesn’t even _know him_ and he still thinks that Tony is the reason they got attacked. Maybe telling Bucky who he is isn’t such a good idea after all if he wants to get off the planet. Tony doubts that Steve will let him go anywhere with them if he knows that he’s Iron Man.

 

“You tryin’ to say he called ‘em on us?” Bucky asks. Tony can tell it’s not the first time that this argument has come up, but it’s definitely the first time that he’s hearing it so he feels his heart warm up at Bucky defending him. “After, what, four years of helpin’ and no trouble from it he decided ‘gosh, today’s the day’ and sent them our coordinates? Shit, he doesn’t even _know_ our coordinates.”

 

That’s not true. Tony _does_ know their coordinates. Although in this case he knows because their also _his_ coordinates, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t kept track of the _Avenger’_ s location in the past. Just so he could follow the journey, so he could know what planets they were visiting. Tony used to be able to easily pretend that when the _Avenger_ landed on a new planet, he was there with them. That he was just part of the crew going to see the galaxy, and he’d get to be at Bucky’s side.  

 

“Sure, ‘cuz one of the most famous hackers in the known universe would really be defeated by Starfleet firewalls--”

 

“He wouldn’t do that, Stevie.” Bucky says and Tony winces at that as well, because he would and he did. “He wouldn’t work for the Borg.” Well, at least that much is true. Tony would never work for the Borg.

 

Steve stares at Bucky for a moment, then asks seriously, “Is that something you’re willing to risk your life on?”

 

“Yes,” Bucky breathes out before the question is even out of Steve’s mouth. Tony doesn’t know what to do with that. He has no idea what he did to earn that kind of trust, but it’s all the confirmation he needs to know that whatever Tony has been feeling for Bucky for the past five years hasn’t been entirely one-sided.

 

As pleased as Tony is to hear the answer, Steve looks like it’s the exact opposite of what he wanted. “What about my life? Sam’s life? Natasha? The whole damn crew, Bucky. What about them? We nearly had three casualties when we crashed. Would’ve had a lot more if we hadn’t gotten really fucking lucky.”

 

Bucky’s silent. Tony tries not to read too much into that.

 

Steve shakes his head, and almost like he’s giving him an order says, “You need to cut ties.”

 

Bucky looks taken aback for a moment, like he hadn’t expect Steve to ask that of him at all. “What? No, Stevie, that’s stupid--”

 

“Don’t make me order you to do this, Buck.” Steve lets out a sigh. “Please.”

 

Tony should really interrupt. He should put an end to the conversation now. It feels oddly intrusive to listen in on it, even if they _are_ talking about him.

 

Bucky hesitates for a moment, and Tony fears that he’ll actually agree to Steve’s demands. “I’ll figure something out. I dunno. But you can’t ask me to just…” Bucky trails off and doesn’t meet Steve’s eyes anymore.

 

“Has he ever told you his coordinates?”

 

“What?” Bucky asks looking back at him.

 

Steve shakes his head. “Bruce says he knows who he is, but has your pal ever given you information without prompting? Hell, even _with_ prompting?”

 

“Steve, I don’t--”

 

Steve doesn’t let him finish. “Do you have anything to go by other than Bruce’s word?” Steve prompts, and Tony can feel himself getting irritated. Tony giving out any information could be dangerous for Bucky. Tony has wanted to tell him multiple times who he is, but in the end always decided it’d be safer for Bucky if he didn’t know. “A name? A nickname? Shit, Buck. What’re his favorite colors? Do you know anything about this guy?”

 

“Red and gold,” Bucky murmurs, so softly that Tony almost doesn’t catch it. Tony barely even remembers telling him that. It’s been years since he told him that. Tony feels something start to swell up in his throat at the fact that Bucky would remember such a minor thing about him. Tony remembers Bucky’s as well--it’s the powder blue color that his paw print pajamas are in.

 

“Hah. But no name,” Steve says smugly, and Tony’s starting to like him less by the second. “No coordinates. Nothing substantial. And you’re telling me he just happened to be oh-so-charming while managing to not even _accidentally_ disclose anything you could track. You couldn’t even track his speech patterns to the dialect of any particular planet and you spent weeks--”

 

“I know,” Bucky bites out, like he doesn’t want to hear anything more. Like he’s already thought about this and doesn’t need to hear it repeated.

 

“No. You _don’t_ know.” Steve shakes his head again, like he’s not sure what to do about the situation anymore. “That’s the problem. I’d trust you to make the right call, but I don’t trust anyone to make this kind of call blind. Especially not with the stupid, dopey grins you make at your monitor. You’re compromised.”

 

Okay, now Tony definitely feels like he’s intruding. It’s also making him feel strangely envious of himself and he doesn’t have the time to analyze that so it’s time to speak up.

 

“I can help you get the ore,” he says.

 

The two of them finally turn to Tony, looking a little surprised, as though they had forgotten that they were in fact having this argument outside of his cell.

 

“His holiness awakens!” Steve says, and Tony lets out a snort and decides that maybe he should give the guy a chance. He has a better sense of humor than Bucky has proven so far. “I’m Captain Rogers of the U.S.S. _Avenger_. I trust you have already been introduced to Commander Barnes?”

 

Steve Rogers. Right, Bucky’s brother. More information that Tony definitely isn’t supposed to know already but does anyway.

 

“His holiness. See, I like the sound of that. Couldn’t convince your commander of the same. We’ve been introduced.” Tony grins over at Bucky, who just looks like he’s doing his best not to constantly scowl at him. Tony resists laughing and then, because he can’t help it and wants to get under Bucky’s skin a little bit, says, “He got rather handsy with me, but not in the way I would’ve liked.”

 

Bucky glances at Steve, and then gestures towards Tony. “See? Crazy.”

 

Okay, that hurts a bit. Since Bucky seems to completely trust Iron Man, but also thinks that Tony is insane, and they’re the same person. Tony should be able to convince Bucky to trust him. He’s done it once before. How hard can it be?

 

“I’m not crazy. Well, the jury’s still out, but it’s not my fault you didn’t believe me when I said I was a god.” Tony’s getting tired of repeating himself. Honestly, this is in no way his fault. “How distressed are the natives?”

 

That’s enough to make the scowl Bucky’s been holding back come out full force. “You’re not a--”

 

“Very distressed. How much did you interact with them?” Steve asks before Bucky can start bickering with Tony.

 

Tony shrugs. “I’ve been here for a few months. Like I said. I can help you get ore--they’ll listen to me. But I have one condition.”

 

“Name it. ”

 

“You can’t be serious,” Bucky protests before Tony can even say anything. That one hurts. He’s barely known Tony for five minutes and Bucky’s already adamantly decided that Tony shouldn’t be listened to. He ignores it, because Tony still needs to get off the planet and that has to be his focus, not Bucky.

 

“After we get the ore, and your ship is fixed, you take me with you.” Tony thinks it’s a simple enough request.   

 

“No. Absolutely not,” Bucky says, and Tony wonders if it’ll ever begin to sting less when Bucky blatantly shows how little he trusts him.

 

“Commander Barnes--” Steve starts in his best _I’m the Captain_ voice. Honestly, Tony’s heard the guy speak for a total of ten minutes and he can already tell that Steve loves using that voice. Tony resists rolling his eyes.

 

“Are you kidding me, Stevie?” Tony wonders if Bucky only calls him Stevie when they need to have a brotherly argument. He’s getting tired of the bickering, regardless of the answer. “First you’re on about me not being careful enough and here comes the universe’s least likely hitchhiker and you’re just gung-ho--”

 

“Were you planning on letting him go?” Steve asks, like he’s waiting for Bucky to challenge him.

 

Bucky falls silent at that so Tony decides to speak up before the arguing can continue. “I imagine you don’t want to be here for long, right?”

 

Bucky turns to him and glares. “I dunno, I’m starting to grow fond of the weather. Maybe I’ll get a statue too.”

 

“You might, but I don’t think it’ll paint you in a very good light after nerve pinching me,” Tony says, making a point to ignore the way that Bucky’s words bite. Then Tony grins. “My point is, who’s your chief engineering officer?”

 

“Why do you want to know?” Bucky says at the same time that Steve replies, “Officer Fabian Stankowics.”

 

This Tony can do. He can sell himself. He can make himself useful to them if that means it’ll get them to trust him more. “I guarantee you that I’m better,” he says smugly. “We get your ore, you let me help fix up your ship, and you take me with you. I can pull my weight.”

 

Bucky turns to Steve, ignoring Tony completely. “No. I don’t like it. No one does all that just to get a ride. Not unless they’re running from something. Or need protection. _Something._ This doesn’t add up.” Tony doesn’t remember Bucky being this suspicious. He supposes that Bucky only sent the best of himself to Iron Man, but even then he had been quick to trust an intergalactic fugitive. Steve had a point to be wary of that, and Bucky barely gave it a second thought if his emails were anything to go by. But now, faced with Tony in person, he seems adamant to question Tony’s every move.

 

Steve let’s out a sigh. “Then what do you suggest?”

 

Bucky’s silent, and Tony waits for him to come up with an answer.

 

Steve beats him to the punch. “We do have ankle monitors. And tracker bracelets--”

 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake--” Bucky starts.

 

Steve grins. “And you can tail him twenty-four-seven. Promise.”

 

“That’s not the point!”

 

Tony grins, because honestly, he can’t resist, and he likes seeing Bucky riled up. “I’m fine with you being on me twenty-four-seven.” Then he winks, because he might as well go all in.

 

“Perfect. He likes you.” Steve tosses a shit eating grin at Bucky. “Consider us even for that incident on Delta 12. Get him fitted for a monitor and a bracelet, maybe brush up on some of the diplomacy vids, and then go get me access to that ore. Clear?”

 

“Steve--” Bucky starts.

 

“You have your orders, Commander,” Steve says in that captain voice that makes Tony want to punch him, and then leaves.

 

Bucky’s silent as he opens Tony’s cell. Except Tony’s never liked silence, it always makes him uneasy, so he starts talking.

 

“Don’t worry. Luckily for you, I’m great at diplomatic scenarios.” That doesn’t get a response other than Bucky raising one disbelieving eyebrow at him. “Doesn’t seem like _you_ are, considering that you’ve upset an entire planet within five minutes of landing. So just follow my lead,” Tony continues, because if Bucky won’t respond to Tony trying to be decent, he can tease him a bit. They tease each other all the time when Tony’s Iron Man--this shouldn’t be that different. Except Tony doesn’t get a response this time either.

 

“So is this something you normally do?” Tony tries. “Crash land on planets and then kidnap their deity?”

 

Bucky doesn’t answer, just measures Tony’s wrists while acting like Tony isn’t even in the room. Tony doesn’t really like being ignored, and he’s damn determined to get Bucky to at least _acknowledge_ him, which is probably what prompts him to say what he does next.

 

“You can make it a little snug--I like it a little rough. I’m more used to handcuffs than bracelets but hey, if you want to leave a couple of bruises on me, make your mark or whatever, that’s fine. I’ll even encourage it,” Tony says, smirking.

 

That does get a reaction from Bucky. It’s a loud scoff, but at least it’s _something._

 

Tony grins. “What? Did I say something to upset your Vulcan sensibilities?”

 

Bucky stares at him, completely deadpan, as he brutally tightens the measuring tape. Tony doesn’t mind because at least Bucky’s acting like he’s aware of him now.

 

“Too tight?”

 

Tony smirks. “Not at all. Like I said,” he starts as he moves closer, then barely above a whisper adds, “I like it a little rough.”

 

Bucky rolls his eyes, adjusts the measuring tape to a level where it isn’t pinching Tony’s wrist, and then takes a large step back from him.

 

“Alright, listen up, Tony With No Last Name. I ain’t your pal. We aren’t goin’ on some kinda field trip. You’re gunna go earn the first part of your keep and then we’re marching right back here so that you can get all cozy in this cell of yours. Once the ship’s repaired-- _with or without your help_ \--then, and _only_ then, will we consider changing the arrangements. Clear?”

 

That might actually be the most that Bucky’s said to him so far.

 

“Crystal. But like I said, you’ll _want_ my help. I don’t care who you have in engineering currently. I can get you out of here twice as fast.” Tony’s confident that he could, too, he’ll prove it to Bucky if it’s the last thing he does. All he really wants at this point is a chance, since it seems that Bucky won’t be declaring them friends, or even on friendly terms, anytime soon.

 

“Buddy, I don’t even want you on my ship,” Bucky says pointedly, and yep, that still doesn’t hurt any less.

 

Tony throws on a smug grin anyway. He’s had a lifetime of dealing with difficult diplomats telling him things he didn’t care for--he can handle Bucky. “You done with those measurements? We have a planet to go appease.”

 

“Mhm. Stick out your ankle. This one’s gunna sting a bit.”

 

Tony does as he’s told, since at least Bucky’s actually talking to him now. “Now you’re talking to me.” Bucky snaps on the ankle monitor harshly, and Tony is certain that Bucky makes it sting more than it’s supposed to on purpose. Tony can play the petty game just as easily. “Look at that, you even listened to me when I said I liked it rough. You’re a very good listener.”

 

“ _Christ._ What is _wrong_ with you?”

 

Tony wants to ask the same question. Because out of all the scenarios that he had imagined where he met Bucky, none of them had gone this wrong. None of them accounted for Bucky being on edge and looking like he’d sooner give anyone else a chance, as long as they’re not Tony. If it weren’t for the irritation and his need to get off the planet, Tony would probably sulk for a while. Bucky’s been the one constant that he’s had as his life fell apart these past five years, and now the one thing that he’s held onto behaves like he’d rather have not met Tony at all.

 

Tony ignores everything that he’s feeling. He’s had a lifetime of suppressing his emotions as he played the role of the perfect prince. So he just shrugs instead. “Plenty, I’m sure. But you’ll have time to find out all about that firsthand once I’m a permanent crewmember.”

 

That was apparently the wrong thing to say, because Bucky goes completely still, and fixes him with a stare that’s cold and distant.

 

“I’d sooner toss you out the airlock.”

 

Tony can tell that he means it. That makes it harder to ignore. He _can’t_ ignore it. Out of everything so far, Bucky hasn’t been that cruel to him. Tony would rather get nerve pinched again.

 

Bucky tosses him the bracelet. “Get that on. I need to go change. I’ll be back to escort you to the village soon. Don’t… Try not to fuck anything up.”

 

Tony doesn’t say anything as he watches Bucky leave. He tries not to focus on the lump in his throat that threatens to come out. Instead he swallows it down and breathes out a quiet ‘ _fuck’_ to the empty cell.

 

_“Sir, you received a new correspondence from Commander Barnes earlier. Would you like me to read it to you?”_

 

Of course, that’s when Jarvis would tell him that. As though to rub salt in the wound. To remind him that Bucky is fond of Iron Man, and all he wants to do to Tony is toss him out of an airlock.

 

“Yeah,” Tony breathes out. “Read it.”

 

He might as well. At least Bucky likes _some_ part of him. If he’s honest with himself, Iron Man is the only part of Tony Stark that Tony likes as well.

 

* * *

 

  
**BUCKY**

 

Bucky has a holo-screen up and tailing him the second he leaves the holding cell level, keeping an eye on the _Avenger’_ s newest prisoner like he is expecting to see something. He isn’t sure what, but something in his gut is telling him this is off. The odds of a random encounter Borg attack? Relatively low. The odds of an impossible hitchhiker? Slightly more likely, but still low. Borg attack _and_ a hitchhiker? Bucky isn’t buying it.

 

It isn’t just the coincidence, either. The way Tony had interacted with him--had _attempted_ to interact with him--itches at the back of his mind. Like the way he’d confidently stared down the barrel of Bucky’s phaser? That kind of thing doesn’t actually happen outside of movies.

 

Nervousness is a natural reaction. _Should have been_ Tony's natural reaction. But Bucky can still picture the easy confidence Tony had  stared him down with. Like he knew he was in no danger. Or that being shot with a phaser wasn't really a concern worthy of his attention.

 

No one bluffs that well, and Tony has no reason to bluff that well. It was like he had wanted to be taken prisoner, which… The implications alone are distressing. The impossible hitchhiker having the singular goal of getting on board the recently attacked Starfleet vessel _and_ wanting to get his hands on their innermost workings? That is the sort of thing that makes students roll their eyes at history books. It’s way too much for anyone to feel comfortable asking of a stranger.

 

Not that that had stopped Tony. He acts like his presence alone is some kind of gift unto the _Avenger_ , like he can’t fathom why they might want to do some digging and prodding before rolling over and offering up the underbelly of Starfleet’s prized flagship. Plus, for someone who is desperate to leave RK-702, he’s oddly calm about the whole affair. It’s like he’s confident that Captain Rogers will take him from the planet no matter what nonsense he spouts.

 

And what bothers Bucky the most? He’s right.

 

Stevie’s pretty predictable, sure, but not _that_ predictable. Not to a complete stranger. Especially not to one that seemed to miss every single hint Bucky threw at him to knock it off with the flirting. He didn’t even know where to begin with that. In his best guess? The flirting is some bizarre technique to throw Bucky off-balance.

 

There’s scant evidence of fire blackening at the edges of control panels all along the way to his quarters, but nothing terribly serious. It doesn’t make the sight of emergency repair kits broken open and scattered all across the halls any easier to stomach. Something about seeing the evidence of the crash being real outside of his view from the bridge makes his stomach turn. When a crewman salutes and greets him, it takes all his willpower to be able to meet their eyes.

 

Bucky’s all but sprinting down the halls. He wants to be inside the safety of his private quarters and it can’t happen soon enough. When he finally closes and locks his door behind him, he can actually feel the panic bubbling up in his chest beginning to reside. Polka leaps off her novelty cat bed he’d bolted to the ceiling to trot over to his legs and curl her tail around his ankle. He reaches down to scratch behind her ears absently, thinking of the ankle cuff he’d all but stabbed into Tony. The man hadn’t even flinched.

 

Each of Tony's comments had stuck under Bucky’s skin like a barb, shifting and tearing at him every time he moved or flexed, like a constant reminder: _something here is wrong._ After all that effort to get a rise out of Bucky, Tony had looked like Bucky's outburst was the furthest thing from what he'd wanted.

 

Tony set his teeth on edge in a way that even the Borg attack hadn’t. The Borg are fearsome, but they’re simple. Their goals are clear, straightforward, and they don’t broker compromise.

 

But Tony? Tony is nothing if not complicated.

 

Bucky’s eyes are still glued to the holo projection, to the prisoner’s body language. He’d folded in on himself after Bucky had threatened him, but hadn’t panicked. Not even privately. He’s still watching the spot where Bucky knows the door is. Waiting.

 

It’s easily one of the most unsettling things Bucky’s ever seen.

 

He glances over at his communications console as he finally swaps out the PJs for his commander’s uniform, squinting at the lack of notifications in the corner. It’s unusual for Iron Man to take longer than a couple hours to reply, barring instances where Bucky’s requested fixes ended up being extremely complicated. It had only been two hours since he’d sent the email, and it required no research to respond to. He hadn’t even CC’d Bruce on it.

 

The screen stays traitorously blank, nonetheless.

 

Bucky stands there, willing the tiny red blip to appear so that he has an excuse to respond, an excuse to stall before going back to deal with Tony. Maybe a good enough excuse to get away with asking Iron Man if he’s ever heard of any of the Borg managing to pass as human. It’s a long shot, but he’s curious, and Iron Man’s never been one to turn down a question for being too ridiculous.

 

Audio crackles in from the holo-projection and Bucky jumps a little, startling Polka. She hobbles away irritably, exaggerating her three-pawed limp and glowering at Bucky over her shoulder as she moves to her food bowl. Bucky tugs on the ends of his sleeves, resisting the urge to roll them up, and stares at the projection.

 

Suddenly, the man in the cell crumples in on himself, pulling his knees closer to his chest and pressing a hand over his mouth to stifle a… sob? Bucky blinks. He taps on the projection twice to zoom in and selects the camera that shows him the cell from the front view.

 

Tony’s eyes are squeezed shut and his shoulders are shaking. He looks like he’s taking in slow methodical breaths, fingers tapping rhythmically against his thighs. Like he’s trying to compose himself.

 

A pang of guilt hits him hard just under his sternum but Bucky resolutely ignores it. This might be the first genuine expression he's seen from the prisoner and it just doesn't make _sense_.

 

Bucky sighs, dragging a hand down his face and pinching lightly at the bridge of his nose. Polka’s chirping happily, doing little figure-8’s around his legs, and he stares at her, tiredness of the whole damn day mimicking the crashing down of the _Avenger_. He lets the weight of it sink in, lets it curl its claws around the adrenaline still coursing through his veins and wash it out with the tension laced through every muscle. He lets his eyes close, feels Polka’s tiny, fuzzy body pressed up against his leg, and stills himself enough to listen to her purring.

 

He nearly laughs, realizing that he’s now survived not one but _two_ encounters with the Borg. Didn’t even lose a limb this time.

 

He opens his eyes and his fingers itch to fly over the communication console keys, to send the joke to Iron Man. Steve’s words and the blank screen are all that stop him. He purses his lips and looks back at the holo-projection.

 

Tony is sitting in his cell, slouching more than he had been earlier but otherwise the same. His breathing is even and the nervous tapping of his fingers has stopped. The calm, lazy confidence is back. For the cameras that Tony may or may not have anticipated being on him. For a show that he may or may not be putting on.

 

Bucky clenches his jaw once, twice, then nods at Polka. He utters nonsense reassurances that he’ll be back soon as he takes his leave, grabbing his preferred belt and holster off the rack by the door and strapping it on as he goes. He has absolutely no doubt that Tony will try to be a human monkey wrench being thrown into the gears of Steve’s plan to fetch ore, but at the very least Bucky can treat this mission as an opportunity to gather intelligence.

 

He’s not prepared for the hint of red in Tony’s eyes. Something that the man is obviously unaware of, since he still grins just as confidently and follows with just as much energy when Bucky escorts him off of the ship.

 

He’s also not talking. That’s new.

 

Tony seems perfectly content to follow behind Bucky, not saying a word as they climb and hop over tangled vines and thin unbraided tree branches that edge around the crash site.

 

Bucky tries to distract himself, wondering about the rate of growth of the vines and tree branches that whole skyscrapers could be woven from them. The greenery around them is so dense, so alive, that he thinks that if he were to pause for a moment, he could maybe see the plants grow before his eyes. And if he didn’t have a mission to complete, he thinks he would. Pause, that is.

 

But Tony’s still dragging along behind him, eyes locked on the ground beneath his feet, expression always blank until he catches Bucky looking. He gives a small smile in response that seems more hollow than the rest he’s aimed at the commander, but it’s there. Of all the things Tony has tried to pass off as genuine, Bucky thinks, this shadow of a smile is the worst attempt yet.

 

Bucky looks at Tony again, watching from a few feet ahead as the man nearly stumbles over a protruding vine, catching himself just in time.

 

Tony blinks up at him and offers another one of those fake smiles when he realizes Bucky’s slowed down to watch him, but doesn’t pause to keep their paces even. Instead, he steps around Bucky, gracefully dodging him entirely, and continues onwards towards the village, rubbing his palm over his chest like he’s trying to catch his breath. Bucky frowns.

 

“...You need an atmo unit or anything?” he tries, speaking to Tony’s back. “Air’s kinda thick here.”

 

Tony falters for just a moment and Bucky quashes the urge to reach out and steady him. The last thing he needs is to give Tony a glimpse at one of Starfleet’s most classified items that just so happens to be attached to Bucky’s left shoulder. Not until Bucky can get a better idea of Tony's tells.

 

Instead he keeps his distance and waits for Tony to gather his balance on his own. Tony looks back over his shoulder at Bucky, his brown eyes almost impassive. _Nervous_? Bucky thinks curiously. Yet another reaction that doesn’t make a goddamn lick of sense.

 

“Nah-” Tony waves off Bucky’s concern. “I’ve been here for long enough that I’m used to it.”

 

“Oh. Uh. Good.” Bucky frowns as they start moving again.

 

Good wasn’t the right word. Not if Tony had been shipwrecked here long enough to grown accustomed to a slightly hostile atmosphere. Tony keeps walking, with his shoulders rigid and his steps sure, says that he’d decided long before Bucky had spoken that he wasn’t going to respond. Bucky chews the inside of his cheek, staring at a spot of dirt on Tony’s shirt, resting between his shoulder blades like it’s a target.

 

Steve could coax whatever it is that’s simmering beneath Tony’s words out into the open with some stupidly inspiring pep-talk. Nat would probably know the right way to phrase it. Hell, even Sam had this knack for making people feel safe with his big, understanding eyes and that non-aggressive tilt to his shoulders that radiates intentional vulnerability. They all understand how to be soft without being compromised, and here he is, struggling to be _polite_.

 

But none of them had seen their family captured and slaughtered by the Borg. None of them had a whole limb that is considered classified by the Federation to the highest degree. None of them had to build a relationship of reckless trust with an intergalactic fugitive just to have hope of being able to complete day-to-day tasks.

 

Steve might’ve had a decent point about Bucky talking to someone about all this but it isn’t like he can divulge the whole, _actual_ truth to anyone other than his family. Or to Iron Man. And even that may have been a foolhardy decision. The years that had passed since their first conversation had proved Bucky’s decision to trust him a good thing--his arm is physical proof enough of that--but still he wonders if he would make the same call today.

 

He honestly doesn’t know.

 

The silence from Tony is persistent, and cuts louder through the rustling of the forest than the distant crackling of the fires still burning out on the _Avenger_.

 

This, Bucky thinks, is exactly why he’s never had any interest in being a captain. The tactical decisions and barking orders that comes with being commander is far more his style, anyway.

 

But Bucky sighs and persists in his mission to gather intelligence on the impossible hitchhiker. He can waste time feeling awkward once he knows his crew is safe.

 

“Not _good_ , I mean. If you didn’t mean to end up here. Y’know?”

 

“I didn’t,” Tony replies almost instantly, shrugging.

 

Bucky nods, realizes Tony didn’t actually turn around to see the gesture and accordingly says, “Right.”

 

Tony moves through the forest with practiced ease now and Bucky notes irritably that he doesn’t even know how long Tony’s been on RK-702. Is this a demonstration of agility or practice? Exactly how much of an advantage does Tony have here?

 

The chilly silence that settles in is so obviously hostile. So Bucky does what all good tacticians do when faced with an unwinnable situation: he changes the game.

 

“What, did I offend your delicate Human sensibilities?” He tries to mimic the same tone that Tony had aimed at him back on the ship.

 

That gets him a pause, and a disbelieving look.

 

“Did you just make a joke?” Tony asks.

 

Bucky feels his cheeks flush with embarrassment, and scowls at the branch he’s in the process of straddling to get past a particularly dense thicket. “Nevermind.”

 

Tony watches him carefully and that hurt look flashes over his features again. “Right. Let’s just make it to the town, shall we?”

 

“Yeah.” Bucky grits his teeth, trying adamantly to ignore the guilt twisting under his ribs like a knife. He can still see the red in Tony’s eyes. But pleasantries and platitudes have to wait until Bucky knows what he's dealing with. So he ignores the urges to soothe and focuses on trying to make sense of the strange man. “Fine.”

 

The smile Tony gives him doesn’t even pretend at sincerity. “Great.”

 

The knife twists again, morphing into anger. Nothing Tony does is making any sense and there’s too much on the line to play it cautious. So Bucky ditches subtlety and snaps, “What’s with the meek act all of a sudden?”

Tony stops again, this time turning around completely to stare at Bucky. Bucky doesn’t slow down and passes Tony, same as Tony had done to him earlier.

 

“You’re kidding, right?” Tony looks irritated and finally, _finally_ , it’s a genuine expression. “I try to joke with you and you get pissed off, so I try and do what you want and you get pissed off. You’re a hard guy to read. What do you want me to do here?”

 

Bucky stumbles a bit, feels his eyes go wide, and schools his face carefully back to neutral.  

 

“… That was your attempt at being _friendly?_ ” He tries for calm and gets something near incredulous.

 

Tony’s annoyance is blatant now. “It’s better than _your_ attempts so far.”

 

Bucky bites back the urge to say that there haven’t _been_ any attempts on his part, and instead lets that information settle in. Tony had been trying to be friendly. Bucky stops walking completely and Tony mirrors him, crossing his arms over his chest. Bucky chews on his lip, trying to find the right words.

 

“You _normally_ try to make friends by telling complete strangers you _like it rough?_ ”

 

Tony rolls his eyes in an exaggerated motion. “I don’t know, do you _normally_ try to make friends by _nerve pinching_ complete strangers?”

 

_Wasn’t tryin’ to make friends,_ Bucky pointedly does not say. Instead, he grits out the obvious with all the contextual clues that had apparently flown right over Tony’s head.

 

“Only the ones who claim to be a deity within the same breath as hitting on me. On a planet that hasn’t had first contact yet. After refusing to identify themselves. While _messing with my ship._ ”

 

“I _am_ a deity _,_ ” Tony insists. “If I wasn’t, you wouldn’t be in this situation, where we have to go make happy with the locals. The planet _has_ had first contact, it was with me. I _did_ identify myself. And I was _helping you._ ”

 

Bucky scoffs loudly.

 

“Oh, is that right? We’re only in this situation ‘cuz you’re a god?” He gives Tony a mockery of a smile and spreads his arms out wide, challenging him. “Prove it. Smite me.”

 

“So is this your new attempt at making friends? Because I have to say, it’s not much better than the first time.” Tony eyes him, unimpressed.

 

But Bucky’s not feeling very smitten. So he makes a point of looking around in feigned confusion. Up at the sky, around at the forest, down at himself and then back up at Tony, gesturing to his still very much in-tact, non-smitten self. “Y’know, gotta say, I always assumed smiting would be more. Y’know. _Obvious_.”

 

Tony’s expression goes dark. “You know what? Go explain to your captain why you can’t get ore. You’re on your own.”

 

He turns on his heel, and starts walking back towards the ship.

 

“Shit,” Bucky swears under his breath. He tries to think of Nat, how she makes it seem like the opportunity of a lifetime when she gets people to do what she wants. So what does Tony want? _That_ , Bucky thinks, _is the question of the goddamn millennium._

 

“Ain’t you trapped here too?”

 

“I’ll wait for the next ship to crash.” Tony tosses the words over his shoulder with a sharp glare.

 

Bucky narrows his eyes. “Were you expecting the first one?”

 

Tony stops and whirls around, outrage etched into his features so intensely that Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

 

“What’s wrong with you?” Tony demands. “That was a _joke._ You don’t have to be so damn suspicious of everything.”

 

Bucky barks out a laugh, feeling his blood boil. He hates this. Hates being trapped by the what-ifs, and the dangers that follow him around just by existing. But he can’t exactly say that, so he gestures towards the crashed ship, finger pointing to the plumes of smoke still tearing apart the untouched skies of RK-702.

 

“Kinda do, pal. See that?” He jabs his finger where he’s pointing for emphasis. “That’s full of people. Actual people that count on me to keep them safe. All I’m sayin’ is that running into one near-impossibility makes for a good story. But two?”

 

Bucky laughs hollowly. “I ain’t buying it. I dunno what your game is, but you can go right ahead and eat your jokes if they have anything to do with putting my crew in harm’s way.”

 

He reminds himself to take deep breaths as the rage in Tony’s face only intensifies. Tony steps closer to him and Bucky instinctively sizes him up. His hair’s a wild mess of black curls and the late afternoon sun makes little flecks of gold light up in his eyes, the same shade outlining the edges of thick lashes and bathing his whole person in a fiery glow. ‘ _He’s beautiful_ ,’ Bucky thinks. And frowns. It isn’t the weirdest time he’d noticed something like that, but it had to be in the top three.

 

Bucky forces himself to tune back in and Tony’s still ranting at him like he might run out of words.

 

“--you seem pretty damn insistent on being an asshole to me and ruining most of your chances there. Look, I’m an easy way to get the natives to do what you want and fast. I can stand here and explain how long it would take them to trust you without me, or you could just stop being a dick and trust me even a damn fraction and _let me help_ ,” he finishes, biting off each word and punctuating it with another challenging step towards the commander.

 

Bucky’s right hand flinches over to his left arm out of protective habit and he stares back, unyielding. His jaw clenches tight and he feels his heart thudding against his chest like a warning siren.

 

He forces himself to take slow breaths when he lets his eyes flick back over to the plumes of smoke, hesitating there for a moment before sliding back to Tony. He looks undaunted, and just as dangerously unpredictable as the evidence of fire itself.

 

Bucky takes his time, then speaks slowly in a low voice, “Captain said to give you a chance. So this is it.”

 

He takes a step back, not moving his eyes from Tony. He uses his left arm to gesture in the direction of the village, his right still hovering over the holster of his phaser. “Show me why I should trust you.”

 

“That’s all I’m asking,” Tony says, exasperation taking over where aggression had been written. The anger drains from his features slowly and, at the speed of dripping molasses, concern touches across his brow and floods out from eyes so expressive it’s a wonder he ever thought himself a convincing liar. But Tony’s gaze rests on Bucky’s left arm and the commander tosses out the idea of letting his guard down any further.

 

“You damage your arm in the crash?” Tony’s voice is oddly soft, and that somehow makes it worse.

 

“None of your concern,” he returns coldly. “C’mon. Let's move.”

 

He turns and keeps walking, gratified to hear Tony’s footsteps following behind him. Of course not before Tony utters a dry, “Whatever you say, Commander.”

 

* * *

 

 

**TONY**

 

They manage to make it the rest of the way to the town in silence. Tony is grateful that it isn’t that long of a walk because he doesn’t need Bucky finding yet another reason to be upset with him, and he thinks that if it were further they’d have a few more arguments. Bucky seems to be willing to give him a chance now, at the very least, and the tension in the air doesn’t hang as heavy anymore.

 

They finally make it, and Tony stares at the temple that they’re somehow still building even though a starship just crashed nearby. He was hoping that it would’ve been enough of a distraction to deter them.

 

“S’beautiful.” He hears Bucky say next to him, under his breath, almost so quietly that Tony doesn’t catch it.

 

Tony looks over at him and immediately forgets what he was going to say. Bucky is looking at the town in awe. For once he’s stopped scowling and his face relaxes, as his eyes go wide in wonder and his lips slightly part as he takes it all in. Tony ignores the pounding of his heart. This is more what he was expecting, the soft look on Bucky’s face is reminiscent of his videos and it was one that Tony had imagined seeing in person, one that he had hoped would be directed at him one day. It isn’t, but this is as close as he’s going to get if the way the day has been going is any indication.

 

“Yeah,” Tony breathes out as he continues to watch him.

 

That’s when the natives notice them. They run up and surround them, giving him no chance of running away. Bucky blinks slowly, and tilts his head to the side in a way that Tony thinks is adorable, and honestly he should probably stop staring and address the issue at hand. Bucky smiles and begins to hold out a hand. Which is obviously a mistake, because that’s enough to get them to point their weapons at him. He jerks back quickly, going rigid as his eyes widen. Tony hates them a little at that moment for scaring him, but he’s petty and still riled up from arguing so he revels in it a little as well.

 

“Uh,” Bucky says, as though he’s completely lost about what’s happening even though Tony is pretty sure that he’s already explained it to him.

 

Tony sighs and ignores him. Instead turns to talk to the natives.

 

“ _He’s with me,_ ” he says.

 

They don’t lower their weapons but they look willing to listen to him.

 

“ _Is he not evil?_ ” One of them asks.

 

Tony holds back a laugh at that. He looks back over at Bucky, who is still standing perfectly still, looking slightly worried. Tony’s heart aches at the sight and he hates himself for it. Hates that Bucky can still make him feel anything at all after he’s done nothing but be a complete asshole to Tony. Tony’s never known when to quit though, and this doesn’t seem to be any different.

 

“I’m pretty sure he’ll be my downfall.” Tony says, it’s more to himself than to the rest of them, but it gets them murmuring. They start to lower their weapons slightly even as Tony hears them talk about Bucky being bad news and being _temptation?_ That’s what he thinks he hears but it doesn’t sound right, he’ll have to look into Jarvis’s translation algorithms later. From what he can gather from the overlapping chatter is that they have, in fact, decided that Bucky means nothing good.

 

“They think you’re the devil,” Tony says, because the translation is probably close enough.

 

That’s apparently the wrong thing to say because hurt flashes across Bucky’s face.

 

“They saw you nerve pinch me and then they heard us arguing. And well, crashing out of the sky on something they’ve never seen doesn’t work in your favor.” Bucky looks increasingly more upset as he talks so Tony pauses and then softly says, “I’m sorry.”

 

Bucky glances at the natives surrounding them, and then in the blink of an eye composes himself and the hurt expression is gone, and instead the version of Bucky that Tony has been dealing with all day is back. “Alright.” Bucky nods. “We can head back to the ship. Lieutenant Romanova can escort you in my place.”

 

That is undoubtedly one of the worst ideas that Tony has heard in his entire life. He wonders if Bucky goes on many diplomatic missions at all. He would think that he’d have to, being a part of Starfleet, but he keeps coming up with one bad diplomatic idea after another. Tony would know, he’s had statues erected in his name and he’s sure that breaks the prime directive multiple different times which is a reason he’s been so eager to leave.

 

“Really? You want the devil to disappear to somewhere where they can’t see him minutes after you arrive? You don’t see how that could go terribly wrong?” He sighs, looks at the natives and tries to think of a way out of this. He grins as an idea comes to him. “I’ve convinced them that you’re my prisoner. It’ll calm them if you’re within sight at all times. So just go along with it while I talk to them.”

 

Bucky’s eyes go wide once again, and Tony thinks that, for a Vulcan, he is really emotive. “Wait, what? You’ve convinced them I’m your _what?_ ”

 

“My prisoner.” Tony repeats, very seriously so he doesn’t show any weakness in front of his worshippers. “It’s a great story of one of their gods overcoming evil.”

 

Bucky just gapes at him, and Tony can’t help but feel a little smug at that. “You’re going to go along with this, right?” Tony asks.

 

Bucky stammers for a moment, looks around him, looks at the weapons, and is seemingly lost as to what to do. “I… guess?” he says as he raises his hands.

 

Tony nods and turns back to the others. “ _He is my prisoner!_ ” It’s apparently that easy because it causes them to cheer. “ _You may arrest him. I will decide what to do with him later._ ”

 

That’s all that it takes as they move in and start to pat him down. Bucky complies and doesn’t complain as they do so. Instead he lets them remove his utility belt, phaser, comm device. Tony’s worried about them noticing the tech but they don’t pay much attention to it. Then they pause on his arm. It’s apparently long enough that it makes Bucky uncomfortable.

 

“Tell them if they try to take my arm, I’ll make sure we match,” He snarls out.

 

“ _Leave his arm. It is no threat to me_ ,” Tony says and they stop immediately.

 

Bucky nods, sniffs and then grins at him. “How’s that for playing along?” he asks as he’s escorted to his cell.

 

Tony has a million responses to that that are basically various ways of telling Bucky that he could use some practice but he figures he can save his snarky remarks for later. He needs to go convince the natives to allow them to get ore and potentially convince them not to execute Bucky as well.

 

* * *

 

 

**BUCKY**

 

The idea of structures woven from rapidly growing trees, vines, and moss coverings had kept Bucky and Steve fascinated through an entire semester of Intergalactic Biology. In person, RK-702 is a dream.

 

It’s like nothing he’s ever seen, nothing he could possibly come up with on his own. The closer he gets to the town the more he could see of the braiding that twisted in and around itself, stretching up to the sky, branches and vines running thinner towards the top. The foundations of everything look like they've fused, the plants growing so densely that they were no longer separate at their stems. It’s more than enough to drag Bucky’s spirits from where they’d been resting at rock bottom, pulling at that sense of wonder that the Five Year Mission could still coax to the surface with a little bit of luck.

 

The beauty of it came crashing back down as the natives (he thinks their skin might be tinted green with chlorophyll, and barely stops himself from asking about their natural sleep cycles) point weapons at him. _Even the weapons are beautiful_ , Bucky thinks sadly.

 

The cell he’s put in is no different. It’s on the ground level of one of their taller structures, one that extends past the cloudline, but because he’s near the base of the structure, there are no windows, no gaps between him and the outside world that he’d been dreaming of since he was a stupid kid. He bitterly thinks that a younger version of himself would’ve been delighted at the opportunity to prod at the natural grafting occurring that makes the walls dense and solid but now he just feels tired.

 

He wants to curl up on the pile of leaves stacked in the corner, to run his fingers over the waxy surfaces and see if the flat of it bends and folds like a blanket. They almost look fuzzy at first glance and the idea of a nap is tempting. But Steve is counting on him and Tony’s out in the village without any supervision. He seems to have a hold on communication with the natives that doesn't result in too much disaster--present situation excluded--but not being able to have eyes on the whole thing makes Bucky nervous. He takes comfort only in knowing that the _Avenger_ would be alerted if Tony tried to remove the tracking pieces.  

 

Bucky ignores the weight of tiredness tugging down on him, stretches a little to wake himself up, and gets to work prying one of the flat stones out of the hardened clay flooring. His fingernails are broken down to bloody stubs by the time he dislodges the damn thing and it’s a bit thicker than he’d planned for. But it still fits between the freshly woven vines that cage him against the plant grafted walls, scratching at the surface hard enough to smooth away a tiny showering of sawdust.

 

He puts all his weight onto the thicker base of the stone, tries to shove the wedge further between the intricate knots, and succeeds in pushing them apart by just a centimeter. He does it again and again, progress slowing to a painful halt as the knots tighten with his effort, but the thin vines don’t snap or splinter. He’s suspicious now that the dust might have come off of the rock itself (maybe just scraping off the thin coating of dried clay) but ignores the possibility.

 

Bucky pauses after a good hour of struggling, staring at the rock, and cautiously letting go of it to see if he’d shoved it enough for the vines to actually support its weight and to his surprise, the rock stays in place. He raises a begrudgingly pleased eyebrow. He’s gained about one more centimeter of room and it’s almost enough for him to reach his hand through.

 

His metal fingers are cramping and locking into place from all the labor and Bucky finds himself ripping out one of the knuckle guard plates that had been coming loose anyway before it can get stuck under a joint. The back of his hand sparks and whirs at him, echoing the disapproval he’ll undoubtedly hear from Iron Man when he sends the damage report.

 

The opening in the vines stretches over the first third of the flat rock, and it’s nearly thick enough that he could reach his arm through to untie the binding knot keeping all the vines in place. So he wipes the sweat from his brow, re-ties his hair back into a bun, and tries to not think about the clicking and tapping coming out in a jarring rhythm at his shoulder when he exerts himself as hard as he can.

There’s an ominous sounding thud and Bucky’s looks at the rock, panic searing through his chest he looks for the source. If one of the vines was going to snap, he’d need to clear out of the way fast enough to avoid a nasty gash. But none of the vines look any more compromised than they had an hour earlier and he grimly flexes his metal arm instead. The thud repeats and he sighs, seeing a small curl of smoke rise out from his elbow joint. His heat sensors weren’t picking up on any actual flame, but the machinery is overworked, thick-toothed gears ground to flat edges.

 

It doesn’t matter. He has to keep trying. Bucky takes a deep breath and braces himself to push again, ignores the cracking in his shoulder, ignores the ache in his muscles, ignores the voice saying something--

 

Wait.

 

Bucky drops his grip from the rock like it had turned molten, jolting away from the mesh vine bars. The rock trembles where it was being held, and Bucky barely has time to swear under his breath before the vines press in around the stone like a slow-working slingshot, sending the piece of stone hurtling through the air and directly into his gut. It knocks the air out of him and for a second his vision whites out as he feels the rough surface of grafted walls rush up to meet his momentum. The flat rock falls to the floor, cracking in two over the crest of his metal tipped boot.

 

Bucky lets his eyes flutter closed, sighing, and sinking down to the ground.

 

“... Are you trying to break out?”

 

Bucky’s eyes flash open. He has to actually exert effort to focus his vision. When he finally succeeds, he blinks.

 

Sure enough his eyes are telling the truth and it’s none other than Tony standing outside his cell, his fingers tracing over the spot where the rock had been wedged. The vines had gone back into place instantly, no slack remaining, judging by the way they don’t yield under the Tony’s prodding.

 

The question Tony asked registers slowly and Bucky rolls his shoulders a bit, trying to figure out whether or it is rhetorical. Or if he even wants to engage Tony right now. Or if he has a choice.

 

Fear broils low in his gut, well aware that he is unarmed and unable to protect himself as he is in the cell. His best asset, his arm, still smells strongly of smoke and cooler fluid and Bucky shoves away the worry that Tony can tell it’s all but a deadweight. That Tony could tell Bucky was at his mercy. He tries to even his breathing out, swallowing down pants and gritting his teeth until his voice doesn’t come out breathy.

 

Thankfully, Tony seems content to busy himself with inspecting the mechanisms of the jail unit itself, eyes sliding over everything slowly, and careful fingers following to scope out every knot, every exposed root, every bump and gnarl.

 

“Well,” Bucky tries, clearing his throat. “Yeah.”

 

Tony’s attention is back on him instantly and he moves to align himself directly in front of Bucky, where he’s less obscured by the mesh. Bucky sees his figure shuffle back and forth for a second, shifting his weight from one foot to another, before he recognizes the shake in the Tony’s shoulders for what it is.

 

Tony’s laughing at him.

 

Bucky scowls.

 

“Okay,” he says, coughing to try and cover another giggle. “Let’s recap your day here.”

 

Bucky sighs loudly, but Tony continues undaunted.

 

“First, you crash a ship--”

 

“I didn’t crash it,” Bucky interrupts. “ _Wilson_ did.”

 

“--nerve pinch one of the native’s gods--”

 

“Ain’t my fault they saw you with a PADD and decided to feed your ego.”

 

“--and then became the literal devil.” Tony’s grin is audible in his words. “And now you think that escaping in the middle of the night is a good idea? Then what happens? Didn’t we go over this earlier? About how you being within their sight is a good idea to keep them calm?”

 

It was the middle of the night? Bucky’s stomach drops. He’d wasted a whole evening on a fruitless escape attempt. Wasted so much energy.

 

“Oh sure, staying in my cell while they deliberate how best to execute me sounds great. Meanwhile the prisoner I’m supposed to be guarding is off doing god knows what--pun intended--and my ship _is still on fire._ ” Bucky can’t help the bitterness that seeps into his words. He’s recognized as one of the Federation’s fiercest commanders. He’s supposed to be unstoppable. And he’s being bested by _plants_.

 

“No one’s going to execute you. I call those shots.” Tony doesn’t seem to notice Bucky’s wince or his unfortunate choice of wording. Bucky swallows back the image of a firing squad and tries to focus as Tony keeps talking, “I got your ore by the way. And I won’t be off doing god knows what. I’m here to keep you company. Figured you want to keep an eye on me. Like we said. Twenty-four-seven.”

 

Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up, Tony’s words surprising him enough that he finds the energy to get back on his feet. He saunters over to where Tony’s standing, and the other man doesn’t take any steps back. Doesn’t flinch away. Bucky can see Tony’s face clearer now and there are dark circles under the same brown eyes that had been so full of life earlier. Bucky frowns.

 

“You’re…” he trails off, not knowing where to even start on asking about his situation. Their situation. So he goes for simple. “Hold on. What? _Why?_ ”

 

Tony shrugs, looking down at the floor and kicking up a small reddish dust cloud with the toe of his boot. “I haven’t had anyone treat me like a normal person in months. Sure, you’re kind of a dick but at least you talk to me normally. And I think you don’t want to stay out here alone the entire night.”

 

Bucky takes a step back. He doesn’t have the energy left to school his face back into something neutral--doesn’t know if he’d want to anyway. Or if it would do any good. With just a couple sentences, Tony has once again wriggled out of the realm of the expected and back into baffling. Bucky tilts his head, studying the man.

“Lemme get this straight. You’re here because you knew I had to be guarding you,” he gestures to the prison cell, and doesn’t bother to hide the confusion in his voice, “and because you didn’t want me to get lonely?”

 

Tony nods at him, eyes darting to the space between them like that bothered him more than Bucky’s apprehension. “Yep.”

 

He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. While the mesh is hindering Bucky’s vision, he can still see Tony’s expressions, can see the nervous way he tugs on his sleeves, the way he waits for Bucky’s response like it scares him.  

 

“... Huh,” Bucky says softly, letting his eyes drop to the ground between them and thinks back to their argument in the woods. “ _Huh,_ ” he says again.

 

Suddenly, the ridiculousness of it all sinks in, aided by the hysteria that came with exhaustion. The ship had barely survived a Borg attack, he’s arrested a god, fought with the aforementioned god, and then had been arrested by the same god. Laughter bubbles up from his chest and he feels his shoulders shake with it before he can try to suppress the urge.

 

Tony puffs out an irritated breath, head tilted a bit and lips pursed in annoyance, but it is nowhere near the spite and fury that he’d thrown at Bucky on their walk over. It is almost fond, and that is just another ridiculous thing to add to Bucky’s goddamn awful day.

 

“I’ve been trying to get you to laugh all day, and me actually doing what you want is what finally accomplishes it?” Tony’s voice is dry, and the irritation is just as real as the curiosity and friendliness, and _Christ_ Bucky cannot get a good read on the guy.  

 

But at the moment, he can't bring himself to care. It’s the closest thing to kindness he’s interacted with since he’d been woken up to the sound of emergency alarms. _Tony had spent the day trying to get Bucky to laugh_. Bucky shakes his head and moves closer to the mesh again, meeting Tony’s gaze evenly.

 

“No, no, it’s just,” he pauses, snickering. “Earlier? You said nerve pinching and arresting folks ain’t a way to make friends.” He doesn’t fight the honest teasing grin that spreads across his face as he gestures to Tony’s presence in the prison. “I’d say it worked out alright, didn’t it?”

 

Tony’s eyes widen sharply, surprise passing over his face too quickly to be faked, and he returns the grin slowly. He shifts his weight again, then takes a large step back, plopping down onto the ground with his back against the opposing wall, before turning that grin back on Bucky.

 

“Are we friends now?” he asks, and Bucky stares.

 

He thinks he’d need about seven doctorates and a stint in vocational school to have a chance at understanding whatever the hell must be going through Tony’s head. And right now? Right now he can’t be bothered. So he lets his calculations and predictions slide off to the side of his head where it’s less noisy and assures himself that Nat will have an easier time picking Tony’s brain anyhow.

 

“Don’t push your luck, Tony With No Last Name,” he warns, but there’s no real malice behind it.

 

“Fine, fine,” Tony relents. Momentarily. “Well, tell me something about you that your friends know then. I have to start somewhere.”

 

Bucky shakes his head, unable to look away from the man slouched casually on the floor in front of him. The man that was supposed to be a god.

 

“I don’t get it,” Bucky confesses, shrugging his good shoulder.

 

“Get what?” Tony asks.  

 

“Why would you want to be my friend?” The words are out of Bucky’s mouth before he can stop them, and it’s so blunt and ham-handed that he can practically feel the scorn of his Intelligence Ops trainer from his Starfleet academy days.

 

Again, surprise widens Tony’s features, “Why wouldn’t I want to be?”

 

Bucky wonders, not for the first time, if everyone else in Tony’s life also heard the bait-like tone to man’s weirdly genuine questions or if that was a certain level of unpredictability that Tony saved for special occasions.

 

“A half-Vulcan with a robot arm corners you at gunpoint and your first inclination is to make friends?” he asks slowly.

 

He nearly laughs again when he realizes that Tony could answer with just about anything and it would still surprise Bucky, but Tony gives the question a thoughtful pause, hand coming up to smooth down his goatee. He looks back at Bucky and shrugs.

 

“It isn’t the worst way I’ve met someone,” he says. Bucky scoffs, raising a disbelieving eyebrow and a small smile quirks at the corners of Tony’s lips. “Okay, it might be. But at least I wasn’t bored. It was...memorable.”

 

Just like that Bucky’s laughing again, and Tony is positively beaming at him.

 

* * *

 

 

**TONY**

 

Tony lets the sound of Bucky’s laughter wash over him as he feels himself relax. Bucky’s pacing in his cell still, but Tony’s determined to put an end to do that. He can make people feel comfortable, or at the very least be enough of a distraction that they stop worrying momentarily.

 

“Come on,” Tony prompts. “You still haven’t told me something your friends know. Have any pets or anything?”

 

He knows the answer already. He knows about the farm, and Bucky’s mom taking care of his pets, he knows about the cat that he has on the _Avenger_ , but he finds himself wanting to hear Bucky tell him in person anyway. He’s fine with hearing it all again, since this time he’ll get to hear Bucky’s voice as he does so. It has the added bonus of Tony not slipping up later with information that he knows about Bucky that he shouldn’t as well.

 

Bucky looks at him, raises an eyebrow and smirks. “Pets are against Starfleet regulations and a good Commander sets an example for the crew.”

 

Tony’s not going to accept that answer. “Never had anything growing up either? Don’t Vulcans normally have sehlats?”

 

“Half. Only half-Vulcan.” He lets out a snort. “Do I sound like a Vulcan native to you? C’mon, ain’t you s’posed to be omnipotent?”

 

Tony laughs. This is easier. This sort of banter is more what he expected. “Honestly the accent was what surprised me most about our meeting.” He pauses for a moment, he knows he heard Steve mention something about Vulcan, but it wasn’t something that had ever come up in their messages. “Have you been to Vulcan?”

 

Bucky visibly winces, and Tony is definitely determined to get that story out of him.

 

“Nuh-uh. This ain’t gunna be an interrogation. All I know about you is your first name and that you’re not supposed to be here at all. You know I’m a Commander, know I’m half-vulcan, know I’m down a limb. That’s already about three months worth of disclosure. I ain’t sayin’ shit until you give up _somethin’_.”

 

Tony sighs. None of those are things that he couldn’t have figured out on his own. It’s not three months of disclosure, it’s three seconds of disclosure just from looking at Bucky, but Tony’s tired and desperately wants Bucky to get along with him, even if it’s only somewhat. So he goes along with it.

 

“What do you want to know?” Tony asks.

 

“Last name.” Bucky says immediately.

 

Tony keeps expression blank. There’s no way he’s admitting to being Tony Stark, and the only other last name that’s coming to mind at the moment is _Stank,_ as he has seen it misspelled multiple times. His brain fails him so he seriously says, “I don’t know it. Never had one.”

 

“… You were serious then. When you said you didn’t have one?” Bucky asks, looking like he doesn’t quite believe him.

“Completely,” Tony insists. It could be true. There’s plenty of planets with a lot of different naming conventions. He’s sure that Bucky was only insistent on it because Tony was human. “Wouldn’t be the first thing I told you about today that you didn’t believe. Next question.”

 

“How did you end up here?” Bucky asks.

 

Tony takes a moment to think of something. Then he grins. “Promise you won’t arrest me when I tell you?”

 

“Nope,” Bucky says returning the grin.

 

Tony shrugs. “I’ll take my chances.” He pauses for a moment as he figures out how to best word the story that he’s come up with. “I grew up in the Delta Cluster. I never got to leave my atmo-camp on that asteroid. Not many people do there, you know? But I wanted to go exploring.” That much is true at least.

 

He watches as Bucky slows down his pacing and watches him as he talks. “So I stole a small ship and left. I hopped around a few places for a few months before I crash landed here.”

 

He thinks it over and then decides that’ll raise questions since he’s been adamant to fix the _Avenger._ He needs a reason for not fixing his own ship. “My ship is more than a day’s walk away. Unfortunately it’s way beyond repair, even for me, so I’ve been stuck here.”

 

Bucky watches him for a moment, and genuinely looks sympathetic. He’s stopped walking now but hasn’t sat down. “I’m sorry to hear that. Glad you survived the crash.”

 

That’s definitely the nicest thing that Bucky has said to him so far. Earlier he was saying that he’d throw Tony out of an airlock and now he’s telling him that he’s glad that Tony survived? Tony is getting whiplash. He waves it off. “Answer one of my questions now. You avoided all of them.”

 

Bucky grins at him like he’s pleased that Tony noticed. “Damn right. Which question do you want answered?”

 

He wants to know the Vulcan story, but he doesn’t think Bucky will divulge it to him yet. “The first one. Pets?”

 

“Twelve. Only one of’em with me on the _Avenger_. Polka. She’s a three legged cat.”

 

Perfect. That’s information Tony knew already, but he didn’t get the added bonus of seeing the way that Bucky’s eye light up a little as he mentions Polka before. “I thought pets were against Starfleet regulations?” Tony says, smirking.

 

Bucky raises an eyebrow and smirks back at him. “What’re ya gonna do? Report me to the Commander?”

 

“I can tell you firsthand that he is very efficient at arresting people,” Tony deadpans.

 

Bucky laughs again and Tony can tell as he relaxes more, some of the tension leaving his body. He finally quits his pacing and sits down, although it’s on the opposite side of the cell from where Tony’s sitting against.

 

“I was havin’ a bad day, alright? Borg attacks ain’t something to take lightly.”

 

Right. Tony had forgotten about the Borg attack.

 

“ _Jarvis, check the networks and check for any other Borg sighting nearby.”_

 

“Borg attacked you?” He asks.

 

Bucky snorts. “What? Did you think we just got a really bad pilot?”

 

“I don’t know,” Tony says, he thinks he remembers Bucky mentioning a thing or two about the pilot in their messages but he can’t place a name, “You haven’t told me about your pilot. Just know that they crashed your ship, so far.”

 

Bucky shakes his head. “Sam’s the best damn pilot Starfleet’s ever seen. And if you tell’im I said that, I’ll deny it. Got it?”

 

Tony squints at him slightly. That seems like an awfully nice thing to keep from someone. “Why wouldn’t you tell him that?”

 

Bucky scrunches up his face. “He’d get all… gloat-y and smiley and _gross_. Bad enough I gotta deal with him mackin’ on my brother all the damn time.”

 

That sounds more familiar, “And your brother is...”

 

That makes Bucky let out a full grin. “Captain Steve Rogers,” he says proudly. Then he holds out his arms and gestures at himself, “Can’t’cha see the family resemblance?”

 

Tony makes sure to look at him for a while. Like he’s trying to genuinely place the resemblance. Then, because he can’t resist and maybe Bucky will react better to joking now, he says, “Well now that you mention it, you do look very similar.”

 

Bucky blinks disbelievingly at him, “We look nothing alike!” he says, all pride gone and offense coming out instead. “I’m _adopted._ ”

 

Tony can’t resist laughing at him. “You’re very easy to rile up.”

 

Bucky glowers at him for a moment, like he’s annoyed that Tony was able to get to him so easily. “Told you. I’ve had a bad day,” he insists. “Go on. Your turn.”

 

“You have to ask a question.” Tony points out.

 

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Fine, whatever.”

 

“That is not a question.” Tony says as a knee-jerk response, because he can’t help it.

 

“M’thinkin’, gimme a sec.” Bucky takes a moment as he frowns and looks at Tony appraisingly. Tony tries not to squirm as he does so. “You said you crashed out here. After escaping your home-planet. No last name, no working ship, and you’ve gotten arrested at least once in the 24 hours I’ve known you.” Bucky grins at him wryly and then looks at him curiously. “Surely this ain’t where you wanna be. So what is it? What’s the end goal?”

 

Tony looks away from him. He doesn’t know the answer. He has no idea. He had never expected to be out in the universe without a place to go. He’s been floating around since he was exiled and he’s not sure what to do about it. There’s plenty of things that he could do now, he could finally go and see the universe. He’s wanted to see the universe since he was a child, wanted to fly amongst the stars and actually feel like he belonged up there exploring instead of just drifting through them as it led him to yet another polite event that he did not care for.

 

“There is no end goal,” Tony says honestly. There isn’t. There hasn’t been an end goal since he was exiled. The end goal previously had been to get on the council and rule once Howard stepped down. He had never expected the freedom to do what he wanted, he hadn’t expected to ever set his own end goals. “I just wanted to see the universe. Isn’t that why you joined Starfleet?”

 

Bucky doesn’t say anything for a moment, so Tony admits, “It’s why I want to come with you.”

 

The frown on Bucky’s face deepens. “Not... quite. Close enough, I s’pose.” He shrugs, not offering any more information. “That makes sense.”

 

Tony can feel himself starting to get tired, the events of the day finally catching up to him. “You didn’t answer me about if you’ve been to Vulcan? Never wanted to visit your home-planet?” Tony asks, hoping that Bucky will be more likely to share now.

 

Instead he gets a bitter laugh at the question. “Ain’t got a home planet. Still lookin’ for that corner of the stars where a half-human, half-vulcan mutt with a fucked up arm doesn’t stick out like a sore thumb.” He glances around his cell, as though he had forgotten that he was in it. Tony sees a flash of hurt come across his face, like he’s disappointed that this is where he is. “Can go ahead and check RK-702 off the list, I guess.”

 

“I’m sorry about that. You looked like you were excited to be here for a moment when we entered the village. You’ll find a home someplace else.” Tony says, and he believes it, then he grins lazily and tries his best attempt at comforting. “I’ve tried this one out, wouldn’t recommend it.”

 

Bucky laughs but doesn’t say anything. Tony’s too tired to fill the silence the way he’d normally be tempted to do, so instead he lets it wash over them.

 

“Not that it ain’t nice to meet’cha Tony, but you don’t seriously plan on staying the whole night just to keep me company?” Bucky says breaking the silence. “Surely you got some godly chambers you can take advantage of, huh?”

 

Tony opens his eyes to look at him. Bucky looks upset, like he’s wishing that he had fancy quarters to stay in instead of a cell. Tony doesn’t know how to relay that it really all that great.

 

He shrugs. “I do. But I like it better here. Besides, I’m a man of my word.”

 

There’s more silence, but he can feel Bucky’s eyes on him. Tony let’s his eyes close again but he can hear shuffling from inside the cell. He opens his eyes slightly to see what Bucky’s doing. He’s moved to the side of the cell that Tony is leaning against, so they’re sitting side by side, only separated by the vines and plants that the cell is composed of.

 

“Hm. Said you fix stuff, right?” Bucky says once he’s situated. “Tell me ‘bout your ship then.”

 

“It was a small thing.” Tony manages to mumble out. “Barely enough room for me to move around freely but it did the job. Like I said, I stole it, but I think I put it to better use than the prick I got it from.”

 

“Could still arrest you, y’know.” Bucky says, and Tony can hear the grin as Bucky speaks, but he can also tell that Bucky is as tired as he is.

 

“Told you I’d take my chances with that,” Tony says, not bothering to open up his eyes as sleep overtakes him.

 

* * *

 

 

**BUCKY**

 

The natives on RK-702 are nice enough, Bucky supposes. They let him shower regularly, give him timely meals that aren’t inedible, and leave him alone for the most part. But he still spends the better part of the week bored out of his goddamn skull. The downside with playing the part of the devil is that the natives limit contact with him as much as possible. Without his comm, his only interactions have been with Tony.

 

Tony delivers his breakfast each morning, sliding the tray underneath loosened vines and chatting with him for a bit before leaving to work on the _Avenger_ as he’d promised to do. More surprisingly, Bucky’s first night on RK-702 had turned out to be indicative of the nights to come. Every single evening, Tony makes a point to sneak in after he gets back from working on the _Avenger_. Just to keep him company.

 

It is admittedly pleasant.

 

The _Avenger_ sits heavy on Bucky’s mind the rest of the time. Bucky trusts Steve to keep a decent enough eye on Tony so that they don’t end up with a rigged ship, but it still doesn’t help drag his nerves down from high alert, dulled as they are from a week of poor sleep.

 

Bucky runs a hand over his now far too prickly face, then tugs his fingers through his hair for the umpteenth time, trying and failing to keep it from looking an absolute wreck.

 

He misses his own bed. He misses Polka. He misses having a working left arm. Several more plates have fallen off (only one due to his own tinkering) and he’s keeping them hidden under the bed pile made of soft leaves. He isn’t sure he’ll be able to sneak them out but… it’s worth the attempt.

 

He’s staring at the leaves contemplatively when Tony’s arrival with a tray of food signals the start of another day. His sixth, to be exact. Bucky watches as Tony comes in, eyeing the pile of purple and blue berries with particular interest.

 

“I talked to your captain,” Tony says casually, waiting for one of the natives that had followed him in to pull on a few of the knots that loosened just the right vines, before sliding the tray gently to Bucky’s side of the cell.

 

Bucky scowls at the natives, channeling every bit of frustration at his circumstances into trying to look as threatening as possible. They titter about nervously, tugging the vines back into place and securing the knots, shooting Tony anxious looks before leaving him to deal with the Devil alone. Bucky lets the act drop immediately.

 

“Yeah?” He strides over to the tray and kneels down for a moment to grab a handful of those berries, popping one in his mouth. It’s sour, fading away slowly to sweet, and coating his throat with the same tingly feeling that came with something fiercely spicy. Bucky ambles about as he eats a couple more. “What’d he say?”

 

“They’ve made good progress. The Avenger should be back up and running today.”

 

That’s good. The idea of his baby still sitting there in the harbor, water flooding through the cracks of the damaged hull and into maintenance makes his heart hurt. He’s no engineer, but damn is he proud of that ship. It doesn’t deserve to stay grounded like some sort of old, abandoned junker.

 

“You’re not still against me coming with you, are you?”

 

Bucky looks up from the spot he’d been staring into the floor to see Tony chewing on his lower lip like he did when he was nervous. When he thought he might have to lie. If nothing else, at least the week in RK-702 had given him plenty of time to learn Tony’s tells. But his motives? Those were still a mystery. Bucky raises an eyebrow at him.

 

“Straight to the point this morning, huh?” Bucky says carefully.

 

Tony shrugs. “I don’t have much time left if you’re leaving today. Want to make sure you won’t run back to the ship and leave me here the minute you get out of the cell.”

 

Tony looks down at the ground in front of him, kicking at a pebble that had come loose from the floor, determined not to meet Bucky’s gaze.

 

Bucky’s lips quirk up at the corners. “Could always leave me in the cell if you’re so worried. M’sure the locals won’t mind.”

 

That earns him a snort and a little bit of the edge leaves Tony’s features. For whatever reason, the obsessive desire to get close to Bucky hasn’t lessened over the course of the week. If anything, Tony has gotten more and more determined. He’s spent evenings asking Bucky about everything from his career in Starfleet to growing up on the _Brooklyn_. Bucky’s given him accurate (if clipped) answers, not allowing himself to indulge in retelling stories while he’s still sitting helpless in a cell.

 

“They’re pretty antsy for you to come out,” Tony explains. “They’re insisting on the trial.”

 

Bucky shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “Might lose. Who knows? I’m up against God himself, ain’t I?”

 

“I’m up against the Devil,” Tony quips back just as fast and a smirk erases away the last of the worry touching his features. “I think I have more to fear here. The Devil’s generally a little scarier.”

 

“That so?” Bucky can’t help the grin. He rolls the remaining berries in his palm, watching Tony with amusement. “You scared?”

 

“I’m just as frightened as the day you pointed a phaser in my face in you paw print pajamas,” Tony’s grin is wide and bright, the low glitter in his eyes warns of mischief in the way it always does when Tony says something ludicrous.

 

“So not nearly as much as you should be,” Bucky comments dryly. He pops the last of the berries in his mouth.

 

“I think I was the right amount of scared.”

 

Bucky scoffs and abandons his ambling to finally plop down in front of the tray and prod at the lump of something that looked kinda like bread. If bread were green and had sprouts growing out of it. He pinched off a piece of it and ate it. Not bad.

 

“You didn’t answer my question.”

 

Bucky’s eyes are back on Tony in an instant. The last traces of the grin are still hovering, but the look has gone strained. Bucky hums a little, pursing his lips and looking down at the strange leafy bread loaf as he chews. He’d been hoping Tony would forget about that.

 

Truth be told, he isn’t sure. He still doesn’t know enough about Tony the Human Being to be confident enough to predict his behavior--his wants, his fears. That kind of thing. And if he didn’t know how someone was going to handle dangerous situations or, hell, even stressful ones, then he really couldn’t know if they were going to cause more harm than good.

 

Bizarrely, Tony stuck with the whole grand-theft-aerospace vehicle story with the premise of wanting to see the universe for the whole week. The more Bucky had prodded at it, the more Tony dodged it and tried to change the subject. It's obviously only a partial truth at best, but Tony still stubbornly clings to it.

 

“If you were in my position, what would you say?” Bucky asks, genuinely curious.

 

“I’d say that you’re very good at dodging questions,” Tony retorts blandly.

 

Bucky laughs, gesturing half-heartedly to his cell. “I’m currently a sitting duck. Caution ain’t unreasonable.”

 

He goes quiet for a while, eating the rest of the loaf and starting in on the pile of assorted leafy greens. One of the rounder, smaller looking leaves reminded him of beets. He pointedly avoided those, brushing them off to the side.

 

“I dunno,” he says finally. “Been thinkin’. Doesn’t matter what I think, though. It’s Stevie’s call. And he won’t leave you behind.”

 

Bucky offers Tony a reassuring smile, but Tony looks anything but pleased. He’s back to avoiding eye contact, the little furrow in his brow giving away his effort to keep his face neutral. Tony stares at the wall opposite the door, looking at the shape of the vein-like lines like they offer some new information he hadn’t picked up from his other visits. He’s hurt, and is trying to swallow it back.

 

Bucky can’t figure out why. Tony’s desire to be on Bucky’s good side is disproportionate, and it's the only thing that remains consistent in all of their interactions. Like now, when Bucky has guaranteed Tony’s safe passage off the planet and still Tony responds like the idea is distasteful when it’s coming from Captain Rogers, not Commander Barnes. The same safe passage that he keeps insisting is his _only_ current desire.

 

So Bucky does what Tony won’t, and takes a risk.

 

“Can’t get a read on you,” he admits with a shrug. Tony’s eyes flicker back to meet his, confusion clouding his expression just enough to dilute the careful stone-like neutral. Bucky barely suppresses a huff. “You’re the worst liar I’ve ever met, but… none of it pieces together.”

 

Tony doesn’t say anything, just meets Bucky’s gaze head on like a deer caught in the headlights. It’s still strange to see such an expressive face frozen in any singular way for very long.

 

“It’s not the lyin’ that bothers me. Lyin’ doesn’t matter,” Bucky continues, watching Tony carefully. “It’s the _why_ that concerns me.”

 

Tony’s caution cracks into another toothy grin. “I like to keep people on their toes.”

 

Then he winks at Bucky. Honestly _winks._

 

Bucky can feel his frown pulling down further, unable to take the offered relief with the lighthearted gesture. “Borg attack sure kept us on our toes.”

 

That wipes the grin off Tony’s face fast. A flash of fear is just barely visible before Tony’s thinking again, eyes scanning over the floor like he’s reading lines. He presses his lips together, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

 

“Said I’m the worst liar you’ve ever seen, right?” Tony finally says.

 

“Certainly wouldn’t recommend you pick up poker,” Bucky says with a wry grin.

 

Tony laughs at that and Bucky’s own smile feels a little more genuine.

 

“Okay. Tell me if I’m lying then,” he says, fixing Bucky with a confident look. “I had nothing to do with the Borg attacking you.”

 

Tony stares at him, the perfect picture of sincerity and Bucky quickly swallows down a laugh. He already knew that. The Borg weren’t known for their overwhelming patience and the _Avenger_ had been docked on a more or less unarmed and unprotected planet for nearly a week. If Tony is acting as a scout for the Borg, then he’s the worst scout Bucky’s ever seen.

 

“I think that’s true,” Bucky says carefully, watching Tony’s immediate relief with curiosity. “Don’t mean you ain’t a danger, though. S’a big universe.”

 

The relief on Tony’s face flickers like sputtering candle flame, threatening to blow out completely, and Bucky supposes he’s left him on the hook for long enough.

 

“I agree with Cap’s decision to let you come with us,” he says. “But I’m gunna strongly argue for keepin’ the tracking pieces on.”

 

“Fine by me,” Tony says with a shrug, but a lot of the tension has left him. He pauses for a moment, “You know there’s traditional robes for the trial?”

 

Bucky groans loudly, flopping back onto the clay floor and glowering at the ceiling. “You ever gonna have good news for me, Tony?”

 

“Well it certainly made my day. I consider it good news. They should be coming by with yours soon.”

 

Bucky can just hear the damn grin in Tony’s voice when he speaks and Bucky rolls his eyes, ignoring the way his own face threatened to betray him by allowing a matching grin. “Then I assume they’re pretty damn embarrassing. I’ll make sure to be extra antagonistic.”

 

If possible, the sound of the grin around Tony’s words grows sharper and he practically purrs, “You think I’d let them put you in something embarrassing?”

 

Bucky sits up just enough to fix him with a level stare. “Yes.”

 

He catches the carefree laugh that breaks the slyness from Tony’s features, his whole being glowing with it. “And here I thought you had started to trust me a little.”

 

The flinch hit Bucky before he could catch it and unbidden he saw faces of his medical specialists treating him like a lab rat; of Dr. Banner who had taken years to stop handling Bucky like he’s made of glass; of General Fury telling his ten year old self that he could be put in prison for the rest of his life if he told anyone how he got his arm, where he got his arm. Bucky lays back down, looking at the ceiling instead of Tony.

 

“Stop lyin’ to me and that process might only take you a couple years,” he says, bitterness lacing through the words he knows are hypocritical. It’s for the best if Tony loses his obsession with befriending Bucky.

 

But instead of confusion or hurt, or even a pointed jab about how Bucky ought to be more trusting, Tony surprises him again.

 

“Fine with me being around for a couple of years now?”

 

Bucky sits up, tilting his head at Tony. A careful hope was written into the softer smile on Tony’s lips, in the way he mirrors Bucky with his own head tilted to match. For a second, Bucky dares to imagine that maybe he could have a friend in Tony. An actual one. One that wouldn’t get frustrated with him; that wouldn’t let the friendship drift as he realizes Bucky won’t ( _can’t_ ) ever share some parts of himself. Won’t ( _can’t_ ) ever be fully honest. He hums, letting the thought drift away from him.

 

“Couple years is a long time and I’ve been told I’m a prickly bastard,” Bucky says with a small laugh.

 

“I think I can handle you,” Tony says, looking smug.

 

Again Bucky’s attention is yanked away from his own downward spiral and firmly plants itself on Tony. The grin on the Tony’s face is challenging. His arms are crossed over his chest like he’s decided he’s won something and the way his chin juts out so naturally speaks of confidence like it’s a habit. Bucky’s eyes pause on the curve of his lips, following the line of his jaw, and running over the slopes of his arms. He’s a scrawny thing, but something about his personality makes him seem ten times bigger. When Tony’s in the room, he fills it.

 

And what a strange friend Tony would be to have. Tony of RK-702, the impossible hitchhiker with no past, no last name, and no cares for the future. Tony that stares fearlessly down the barrels of a phasers for the chance to flirt with a complete stranger.

 

“Stubborn bastard, ain’tcha?” Bucky breaks the silence finally, fondness creeping into his tone more than he likes.

 

Tony doesn’t appear to notice and instead narrows his eyes in a level look that says, ‘ _hi pot, I’m kettle_.’ Bucky shakes his head and tries to ignore the tiny spark of hope in his own gut.

 

The swish and rustle of leaves alerts him to the arrival of the small squadron of RK-702 natives before he actually sees the tips of little glassy orb baubles that rest on the tips of delicate antennae. Their garb is different now, fancier. Vines weave and spin around them, defying physics to spiral into intricate patterns that cover curved muscles and accent their naturally green skin with a mossy tint. In their arms they hold piles of similar looking garments, lined with long fluttering leaves and cords braided from fine fibers.

 

Bucky remembers his part just a second after they look at him and scrambles to his feet. He snarls, giving the group his meanest look. Their eyes widen, and they flutter around Tony, muttering and cooing in the strange language his universal translator can’t identify. Tony rolls his eyes at Bucky’s hostile display.

 

“They’ve brought your robes,” Tony lets him know helpfully.

 

Another small group in similar finery comes in, carrying an enormous ornate halberd. Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up.

 

“And a weapon,” he says, looking back to Tony.

 

Tony has the good enough sense to look at least a little abashed. “It’s a trial by combat. I thought I mentioned that.”

 

“You did not mention that,” Bucky grits out.

 

“Sure I did!” Tony waves off his irritation, then pauses. He’s grinning widely at Bucky. “... About two seconds ago.”

 

The RK-702 natives carefully undo some of the knots of his cell and slide the garbs and halberd through the opening before sealing it off again. The blade on the halberd is sharpened to a gleaming edge, designs and runes carved into the flat side of it. It looks heavy enough to decapitate. He picks it up and the balance of it is of a professional make. Despite its outward appearance, this weapon _definitely_ isn’t ornamental.

 

Bucky clenches his jaw nervously, looking back up to Tony who’s starting to look a little on edge himself.

 

“You, uh…” Bucky pauses, chewing at his lower lip. Tony’s not scrawny, _per se_ , but he doesn’t exactly look like he has any idea how to take a punch. Bucky’s stomach drops. “Tell me you know what you’re doing here. This ain’t your first fight, is it?”

 

The way Tony grins immediately does not at all soothe Bucky’s suspicions.

 

“Of course not,” Tony chirps. “Although, my last fight involved explosives and not melee weapons but I think I can swing it.”

 

Bucky gapes at him, the halberd sagging in his grip. “Christ, Tony. You don’t have an ounce of self-preservation, do you?”

 

Bucky looks down at his weapon, twirling it in his grip. Halberds are not easy things to wield, and the fact that Tony had honest to God used the words ‘melee weapon’ when concerning his experience with fights didn’t exactly inspire confidence. Or the fucking ‘swing it’ pun, which Bucky refuses to acknowledge. Instead, he presses on to more important details.

 

“What’s the winning condition?” Bucky asks, begging the stars above that it isn’t death. Tony frowns and turns to ask the natives.

 

_Maybe it’s until surrender_ , Bucky thinks hopefully. Maybe the halberd is just a poorly designed javelin and it’s a throwing contest--

 

“Whoever draws first blood.” Tony looks like he’s lost about three shades of color.

 

He’s scared. Of course he’s scared. Bucky cringes, swears under his breath, and tries to come up with a simple enough plan to fool the natives into thinking the fight is legitimate without getting one of them accidentally dismembered. He may have a guy that’s pretty good with unique prosthetics, but that doesn't mean he’s jumping at the chance to try out a bionic leg.

 

“Alright,” Bucky says slowly, trying to project confidence. He smiles at Tony in a way he hopes is reassuring. “You’ll have to just… slash my arm or somethin’. I dunno.”

 

Tony looks a little lost, but he’s trying to smile back.

 

Bucky swallows down a wince. “Can you control your halberd well enough for that?”

 

“We’ll find out,” Tony says with a nervous grin.

 

Bucky feels himself pale. “Just… just follow my lead,” he says. And because teasing seems to put Tony at ease, he lets his grin turn a little wicked and adds, “For once.”

 

Tony nods at him, and Bucky mirrors the gesture. He places the halberd down on the ground gently and reassigns his attention to the robes.

 

He looks up. The natives have long since shuffled out, but Tony’s still looking at him curiously.

 

Bucky raises a brow at Tony, and gestures to the embarrassing robes he’s holding, the cell at large, and Tony himself--who is very much _still here_.

 

“You mind?” Bucky says dryly.

 

Tony smirks. “Not at all!”

 

Bucky’s expression must be enough to get his thoughts across because Tony huffs out another laugh and grins at him. “Still very easy to rile up. Alright, I’m going. I have my own robes to put on.”

 

* * *

 

From where he’s standing in a waiting chamber, Bucky thinks that calling whatever he’s wearing ‘robes’ is unbelievably generous. Perhaps Tony is spared more dignity, but Bucky’s garbs consist of forearm guards, shin guards, a large flat necklace that spreads across the top of his chest and drapes over the width of his shoulders like a folded circle. But those pieces barely count as clothing.

 

No, for clothing he’s been left with a floor length sarong style skirt with long thin braided cords that  tie around his waist. The skirt itself was really more of a wrap, with long leaves draped over his front and backside. But there is nothing that extends from the wrapped core itself to cover his legs, and the woven vine fabric comes to a determined halt just before the thick of his thighs. He crosses his arms over his chest and grumbles again at one of the natives that stands guard by the exit. He’d had to all but threaten a bunch of them with his halberd to let him keep his gloves on, but had lost the fight for his shirt. They hadn’t even let him keep his _hair tie_.

 

He’d just have to be careful not to make contact with Tony’s skin. The last thing he needs is to accidentally initiate a telepathic bond through skin contact. He’s got enough to deal with without tossing in the hazards of being half-Vulcan. Bucky sighs loudly, pointedly glowering at his guard. To his guard’s credit, being a full two feet shorter than Bucky doesn’t seem to bother the native at all and he doesn’t once flinch away back down.

 

Not until the sounds of flute-like music pierces through the walls and door, signalling the beginning of… something. Bucky’s grip around his weapon tightens and he holds it closer to his chest. His left arm is still sparking worryingly, and occasionally stalling out so he’s been trying to re-teach himself to lead with his right arm. So he can avoid accidentally gutting his prisoner. That he’s currently a prisoner to. Bucky scrunches up his nose.

 

His guard finally moves out of the way and Bucky sticks his tongue out at the native as he passes, surprised when the gesture is returned, and ignores the chill on his exposed skin as he starts stomping out to the trial grounds. The slapping sound of his sandals makes him cringe, so he settles for slinking onto the raised circular platform instead.

 

It’s out in the open air, towards the edge of the town where he’d been arrested and Bucky can even see the pathway he and Tony had taken from the _Avenger_. His ship is still visible on the edge of the waterline, is no longer on fire or smoking, and is looking far more like the pride of the Federation. Bucky’s heart flutters in his chest and he can’t stop the little smile he gets from just seeing it.

 

He drags himself reluctantly away from it, looking back at the platform. It’s the stump of a cut down tree, he realizes in awe, the diameter of which spans at least ten meters. The tree’s rings shine proudly up at him, unmistakably shaped and bold under a polished sheen. The natives are gathered around the platform. They give it a wide berth, and are armed intermittently with weapons, instruments, and enormous ceremonial bouquets full of strange flowers.

 

Tony clears his throat from where he’s standing on the opposite side of the platform and Bucky’s gaze snaps back to attention. The first thing he feels when seeing Tony is relief. The natives had seen fit to give Tony actual clothing, with not nearly as much exposed skin. Huge golden leaves drape over his torso and twist in close to his waist, then relaxing into a long flowing skirt. The edges of the middle leaves are torn into palm-wide strips, which are knotted and bowed at his left side, long ribbons of the extra length fluttering out behind him as he moves. Thinner, glossy leaves are spread across his shoulders like a cloak. They’re translucent in the fierce evening glow, and the ornate veins that burn red like fire against the leaves’ gold are mimicked and woven together with delicate brown braided cords. Atop his head is a flower crown made with blooms no bigger than Bucky’s fingertip, swirling around black curls in shades of gold, yellow, red, and white.

 

Tony holds his arms out and does a quick spin, making the lengths of plant woven cloth flare out around him, before grinning at Bucky. When Tony’s close enough that Bucky can see the warm light catching gold flecks in his eyes to match his robes, Bucky thinks that he’s got to hand it to the natives of RK-702. Tony looks nothing short of godlike.  

 

The second thing Bucky feels upon seeing Tony approach is irritation and envy. He grumbles under his breath about how _of course_ the god gets to wear actual clothes to a trial by combat. He shivers a little and hugs his arms across his chest.

 

Tony follows his movement and shamelessly drags his eyes slowly down Bucky’s body. He quirks an appreciative brow and grins when he meets Bucky’s eyes again. “The robes actually suit you very nicely.”

 

Maybe it’s the lack of sleep. Maybe it’s the long boring week of being cooped up in a cell. Maybe it’s the thrill that always comes before a fight--even if he knows this one isn’t going to be a real fight. Or maybe he gets the jolt of confidence from the way Tony’s looking at him hungrily, but whatever it is, Bucky tosses caution to the wind and leers back at Tony. He adjusts his grip on his halberd, confidently swinging it around his body with ease and relishes the way Tony’s eyes widen just that little bit more.

 

“Just try to keep up,” Bucky says, jutting his chin out challengingly and lowering himself into a more appropriate fighting stance. “I don’t wanna carry a deadweight back to the ship.”

 

The intense gold tones of the dying sunlight make it hard to tell, but he thinks he sees a red flush creep up Tony’s neck, and feels absurdly smug about finally being a couple steps ahead of Tony’s clever tongue.

 

“Make sure to carry me back to the ship alive and bridal style,” Tony says airily, swinging his own halberd back and forth like the tail of a cat about to pounce. At least it looks like Tony could handle the weight of it.

 

“Dead and like a sack of potatoes. Got it,” Bucky’s grin broadens and he winks at Tony, delighting in the blatant surprise it earns him.

 

He charges forward while Tony’s got his mouth open to retort, and purposefully feints to the right. Tony catches on, and lunges out of the way, slicing his weapon through the air in a broad arc to force Bucky back. Bucky steps back gingerly to avoid the hit and moves further to the right. They’re soon circling each other, stepping forward and lashing out occasionally to the chorus of the native’s cheering and the sharp sound of flutes.

 

It doesn’t take long until they’re both panting, heavy weapons sagging in their grips. Tony looks exhausted and Bucky can see it in the sluggish way he moves. It hadn’t really occurred to him before, but he realizes now that Tony can’t have been getting enough sleep since he’s been insisting on spending his nights on the ground outside of Bucky’s cell. The hazy, distracted look in Tony’s eyes is all he needs to see to know that they need to end their fight quickly.

 

Bucky spins away from another of Tony’s lunges with more flair than entirely necessary in order to grab the other man’s attention. As soon as Tony’s eyes light up, Bucky nods slightly and moves in close, quickly. He’d meant to feign grappling with the Tony’s weapon so that he could whisper a plan, but Tony had just stayed still. The blade of Bucky’s halberd drags across the top of Tony’s bare foot and the shorter man yelps and jumps back.

 

Bucky drops his weapon immediately, paying no mind to the sound of the clatter as it hits the platform surface and instead falling to his knees to inspect the injury. With gloved hands, he gently cups Tony’s ankle to keep him still and swears under his breath.

 

“Shit,” he mutters, just loud enough for Tony to hear as the natives burst into a wild cheer. “That wasn’t s’posed to land.”

 

He runs a metal thumb across the skin above the cut, pleased to see that the wound isn’t too deep. It’s still bleeding profusely though, and he tugs at it just a little to encourage the blood flow. It was Tony’s best defense against an infection. Tony hisses between his teeth and Bucky looks up at him.

 

Tony’s staring down at him with his eyes wide, eyebrows raised almost to his hairline, and his lips parted into a small ‘o’. His attention isn’t anywhere near his injury, though. It’s all on Bucky.

 

Bucky swallows thickly, knowing that his face is about to be lit up in a bright green flush by the way he suddenly feels feverish and he tries to choke the feeling down in favor of giving Tony a reassuring smile.

 

“It ain’t that deep, don’t worry--” Bucky starts, but he’s interrupted by a ground shaking _bang_.

 

A low and deep rumble rips through the forest and into the village like a tidal wave, and Bucky _knows that sound_. Knows it by heart. His grin is more of a reflex than anything and he’s looking out at the _Avenger_ for a visual on what he already knows is happening. Sure enough, lights are flickering on across the hull. The engines are back online. His baby is up and swinging again.

 

Bucky turns that giddy delight back to Tony, giving him maybe a couple seconds before he stands up and scoops his arms under the other man’s knees and back. Then, with a triumphant whoop and a laughing Tony in his arms, Bucky’s taking off as fast as he can towards his ship.

 

* * *

 

 

**TONY**

 

Tony can’t control his laughter as Bucky literally picks him up. It comes out immediately, and he can’t remember the last time he laughed so freely. Can’t recall it no matter how hard he tries, but the moment that Bucky lifts him it comes out, the ridiculousness of the situation finally catching up to him. Tony Stark, Crown Prince for the humans of the Lagom Ring, just got _married._

 

Suddenly a lot of things about RK-702 make a lot of sense. Bucky wasn’t the devil, he was equivalent to the God of Lust, of temptation, and they had believed that Tony had won over his heart and demanded a wedding. The natives had observed him keeping Bucky company and thought this was a sign of their romantic relationship. When Bucky asks how the trial is completed, the answer that Tony receives is “the marriage is official at the first drawing of blood.”

 

He leaves out the marriage part.

 

Even now, after it’s all finished he can’t bring himself to say anything about it. He thinks it’s better if Bucky doesn’t know. All Tony can think through his laughter is how his parents would be disappointed that he didn’t have a traditional royal wedding. He’s a crown prince and no one even knows about his betrothal. It’s another thing to add to the long list of things he imagined going different.

 

His parents would have insisted on a grand ceremony. They would have insisted on an inter-species marriage to improve relations, they would have insisted on him courting a few different people of high status before making a decision. Instead he gets married on a planet that no one in the Lagom Ring is allowed to interact with, Bucky’s Vulcan so he figures he has the interspecies marriage part down, he hasn’t courted anyone else but he figures that 5 years of flirting and building up something is enough for him to tie the knot.

 

He laughs harder as he realizes that they’re both still wearing their traditional robes, made out of plants and woven leaves. Tony’s wearing a damn _flower crown._ His laughter subsides as he feels himself grin, because he realizes that Bucky didn’t even hesitate when picking him up. Didn’t even pause after hearing the engines of the _Avenger_ . He grabbed Tony and started running immediately, like Tony coming onto the _Avenger_ and coming with him was always the plan. Like he had never doubted it.

 

Tony keeps grinning as he looks up at Bucky, “Told you it’d be bridal style.”

 

Bucky grins back down at him, a wide grin like he’s ready to start laughing as well. “Shut up.”

 

 (Art done by the lovely Kam! Aka [thegoldenavenger](http://thegoldenavenger.tumblr.com/) on tumblr!)

* * *

 

 

**BRUCE**

 

For all the time that Bruce Banner spends cooped up in his lab, he’s considerably more aware of the state of the ship than anyone seems to give him credit for. Captain Rogers had even gone so far as to cheerfully inform him that the engines were back online, as if Bruce wouldn’t be shaking the echoes of that sound out of his eardrums for the next two weeks.

 

Still, it is nice to see things returning to some semblance of ‘normal’.

 

All chances at normality, however, are reduced abruptly to _zero_ as Bruce turns around from the coffee station in the main deck hallway to see a shirtless Commander Barnes sprinting by. The commander blurts out a hasty ‘hey, doc!’ as he whips past, his skirt made of leaves ( _???_ ) trailing out behind him.

 

Now, Bruce has been working with James Buchanan Barnes for a long time. He’s well aware that Bucky and his brother have an incredible talent for finding trouble. So it isn’t the sprinting, the outfit, or the timing that throws Bruce off his stride.

 

No, it’s definitely the man being carried in Bucky’s arms. The man who is most certainly Anthony Edward Stark, Human Prince of the Lagom Ring. Or, as Bruce most commonly interacts with him, Iron Man.

 

Tony looks surprised to see him at first, but his fit of giggles doesn’t pause as he shoots the good doctor with a cheeky wink and a salute that goes unnoticed by Bucky. And just like that, the two men have disappeared down one of the hallways of the newly repaired _Avenger_ , leaving Bruce alone with his jaw hanging open and probably at least three new grey hairs.

 

Bruce realizes only after he hears the sound of porcelain shattering that he’s dropped his fresh mug of coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra huge thank you to the various betas we bugged throughout the process and for all of you guys being so patient with us. Especially when we're such impatient fucks. 
> 
> As always, Tony's parts were written by Ivo ("Ivoughrie"), and Bucky's by Elaine ("Vashoth").


	3. Chapter 3

**To:** Man, Iron  
**From:** Barnes, James  
**Subject:** Don’t ask.

Need some serious repairs when you’ve got the time. Can’t go into specifics. Lieutenant says confidentiality is a thing. All I’ll say is that I’ve never had less faith in religion as a whole.

Hope your day is less crazy.

\--B

 

 **To:** Barnes, James  
**From:** Man, Iron  
**Subject:** RE: Don’t ask.

You didn’t stick your arm in another volcano did you? How about we set up something for tonight?

 

 **To:** Barnes, James  
**From:** Man, Iron  
**Subject:** RE: Don’t ask.

Bucky? Starling?

 

 **To:** Barnes, James  
**From:** Man, Iron  
**Subject:** RE: Don’t ask.

Your arm better be the only thing needing serious repairs.

 

 **To:** Man, Iron  
**From:** Barnes, James  
**Subject:** I’m alive!

Sorry, doll! Things got outta control. Ended up in a cell for a week. I’ll tell you all about it over the phone. Tonight work for you?

\--B

 

 **To:** Barnes, James  
**From:** Man, Iron  
**Subject:** RE: Don’t ask.

You didn’t lose any limbs this time, did you? Tonight works. I always have time for you.

 

* * *

 

 

 

**BUCKY**

 

“Buck, have you seen my cufflinks?” Steve looks distressed as he peers into Bucky’s quarters and Bucky raises an eyebrow at him from where he’s reading on his bed. Polka offers a tiny _prrrt_ but doesn’t bother raising her head.

 

Bucky glances at Steve’s wrists. “You’re wearing them.”

 

“No, smartass,” Steve rolls his eyes and worries his rank indicator cuffs on his Starfleet uniform between his fingers. “I mean the ones for the wedding. My wedding.”

 

“Oh!” Bucky sits up, ignoring Polka’s much louder protest as she leaps away from his chest and onto the floor. She spits a little at him as she makes a beeline for her food bowl but otherwise lets the disturbance slide.

 

He sets his book, _21st Century Cryptids_ , off to the side and digs through his desk drawers one at a time until he pulls out a tiny flat black box. He flicks it open just to be sure, and yep, there are the cufflinks Sam had purchased for Steve a few months back. They’re silver and circular, with a large star lightly embossed in the center. There is a ripped folded piece of paper crammed into the box too that says something sappy that Bucky doesn’t remember and has zero inclination to remind himself of. Instead he hands the box, note, and cufflinks all to Steve.

 

Steve unfolds the paper and makes doe eyes at it. Bucky gags loudly. “You guys gunna be even grosser once you’re hitched?”

 

“Probably,” Steve says, unrepentant. He narrows his eyes on Bucky. “Why did you even have these?”

 

Bucky grins. “Sam said you’d lose’em.”

 

“Well--”

 

“And apparently he was right.”

 

Instead of parrying away the jab, Steve gets that dopey look in his eyes again. “He knows me too well.”

 

Bucky can barely restrain himself from groaning. “He better. Otherwise I’ma have a few words with him ‘bout treating my dumb little brother right.”

 

“That’s _Captain_ dumb little brother to you, Commander,” Steve says in his Captain Voice. Bucky snorts.

 

Steve closes the box and stuffs it inside his pocket. Polka, apparently finished with her meal, saunters over to him suspiciously. Though Bucky will give credit where credit’s due--even after years of standing on ceremony, Steve patiently waits for the tiny three legged cat to sniff at his pant leg and rub her cheek up against him approvingly before he crouches down to pet her.

 

“Y’know you’re not supposed to have pets?” Steve says in that same teasing tone his eight-year-old self had used to inform Bucky that he was ‘gunna tell Ma.’ He’s been telling the same stupid joke for years, but still thinks it’s funny by the way he chuckles under his breath.

 

Bucky just rolls his eyes. “I’m also not supposed to have a Borg arm or be in contact with an intergalactic fugitive, but here I am and I just sent an email. Now would you quit botherin’ Polka? You’re gunna make her cranky.”

 

Steve grins down at the little cat, unoffended as Polka decides she’s had enough and lets out a low growl, a hiss, and slaps at Steve’s wrist before skittering away back to Bucky’s cot. Only once Steve is standing up again do Bucky’s words seem to click into place and he frowns. “...You just emailed Iron Man?”

 

This time Bucky does not hold back his groan. “You’re not seriously still trying to pin the Borg attack on--”

 

“No, no.” Steve raises his hands in a tactical surrender. “I was just… thinkin’.”

 

“A dangerous pastime.”

 

“I know.” Steve grins.

 

Silence stretches out between them, growing more uncomfortable as neither disturbs it. Bucky can’t get the fierce look Steve had given him in the holding bay out of his head. Steve’s never been Iron Man’s biggest fan, but mostly that has been due to Bucky’s hopeless crush. Not a genuine concern for safety.

 

Steve has also never actually had to survive an attack from the Borg before. Bucky’s all too aware that he had to watch his husband-to-be get tossed around like a ragdoll during the crash. Sam hadn’t been injured but…

 

Bucky looks down at his metal arm. He wishes he could give Steve the same comfort Steve had given him all those years ago. A bright smiling face with a couple of missing teeth and a friendly handshake coming from a six year old kid who wouldn’t recognize danger if it bit him. Instead, here Bucky was, walking proof of just how badly an incident with the Borg could go. If you were lucky to survive in the first place.

 

That’s the thing about Iron Man--he had taken Bucky away from just having _survived_ the Borg to Bucky coming out triumphant. His arm could do things no organic arm ever could. . It made him stronger, a better fighter, and a better commander. Without Iron Man, it would be easy to envision himself going back to wearing hoodies like a low-key sling and hoping no one noticed how hard he tilted to the left. He just couldn’t do it anymore.

 

“I ain’t gonna stop contacting him, y’know.” Bucky speaks quietly and avoids  Steve’s eyes.

 

“Yeah, I know,” Steve says with a snort. He’s silent for a couple beats, then, “Could you at least do it on a private line? Non-Federation. Something that gives the Avenger an out. If she needs it.”

 

Bucky frowns at him. “Everything I’ve got is standard issue. Same with Bruce.”

 

Steve sighs and shrugs helplessly. “Figure it out, Buck. If it’s a risk you’re willin’ to take, then I’ll support you. But don’t ask me to put the crew of the Avenger on the balance too.”

 

“Yeah.” Bucky breathes out some of the tension in a long sigh. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

 

“‘Sides, I’m sure you can find some crappy piece of junk at our next stop,” Steve says with another shrug. He turns to make kissy noises at Polka who scowls back. Bucky’s never been more proud.

 

“We stoppin’ somewhere?”

 

“Kamaete System, third quadrant.”

 

“Oh. Good.” Bucky grins. “Can finally pick up some formal shoes.”

 

Steve gawks at him. “Are you kidding me, Buck? The wedding is in two days.”

 

“So I have two whole days to get shoes. What of it?” Bucky says indignantly. “Ain’t like I got a date to impress,” he adds a little bitterly.

 

Steve goes rigid and Bucky is promptly suspicious.

 

“Uhh.” Steve scratches at the back of his neck as if that’ll hide the nervous flush. Bucky squints at him. “About that.”

 

“About what?” Bucky asks, low and accusatory.

 

“Tony’s bracelet means he’s gotta be on the ship with us, or within one hundred meters of one of us. So if we’re both off the ship….” Steve trails off and tries to give Bucky a small, sheepish smile. Bucky glares back. Steve puffs. “Well, it ain’t like I’m gunna tell Ma that we’re bringing along a detained prisoner to the wedding--”

 

“ _What’d you tell her, Stevie?_ ”

 

“Said Tony was your date,” Steve mumbles.

 

“You goddamn _insufferable_ little _punk--_ ”

 

“Hey! You can’t get mad at me! It’s my wedding!” Steve’s hands go up defensively and Bucky strongly considers flinging a pen at him.

 

“Oh, I can and _will_.”

 

Steve swaps tactics immediately and Bucky’s reminded sharply of the day they took the Kobayashi Maru as his brother’s eyes go round and pleading, his shoulders wilt like he’s been scolded, and he makes a truly impressive bid for Starfleet’s Most Pathetic Captain.

 

“Please, Buck? It’s just one night,” Steve pleads. Then, because he’s Steve, he twists the knife a little. Then a lot. “It’s my wedding, Buck. It’d mean a lot to me.”

 

Bucky briefly considers telling his brother not to worry, that divorce rates are still pretty high and the odds of him getting another wedding are pretty good. But he’s not feeling quite that dickish even if Steve’s making him bring his _prisoner_ as a goddamn _date_.

 

“….Fine,” Bucky grumbles.

 

Steve brightens immediately, woesome expression vanishing like the fake bullshit it is. “I owe you one!”

 

“Yep,” Bucky says. “You’re buying my shoes.”

 

“What?”

 

“At our next pit stop. Formal leather boots.” Bucky grins smugly. “The nicest pair money can buy. I’m talkin’ steel toe and everything.”

 

Steve looks horrified. “You’re kidding.”

 

“That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”

 

Steve stares him down for a minute, as if he can’t tell if Bucky’s serious. Bucky is absolutely serious.

 

“...Fine. _Fine_. But you’re explaining your phobia of nice things to Sam.” Steve wags a finger at him menacingly and Bucky just laughs.

 

“He’s _your_ husband, you explain it.”

 

Steve smiles. “Not yet he’s not. Two more days.”

 

* * *

 

 

**TONY**

 

Bruce comes by Tony’s cell shortly after he and Bucky arrive on the _Avenger._ He paces around Tony’s cell a few times, staring at him, sputtering, frowning, and then pacing again. He repeats this motion a few times before finally hissing out _how?_

 

Tony explains it to the best of his abilities, tells Bruce about his exile and the circumstances. Bruce paces again when he’s done and frowns repeatedly at Tony while rubbing his temples and saying that _this is not what he joined Starfleet for_. He also argues that  Tony ought to tell Bucky. Bruce warns that Bucky is less likely to take the news well the longer Tony waits to tell him. Tony fights him on that for a while, Bruce frowns _again_ and Tony worries that his face will actually get stuck that way.

 

Bruce finally gives up and  mumbles that he does not want to be involved in Tony’s _intergalactic crime and romance_ mess. He announces that he is going to take his shore leave because he feels he’s earned a vacation and that three days won’t make the situation any less _stupid_. With that, he leaves Tony to his cell.

 

Tony rolls over to try and get some sleep and ignore the fact that he’s lying about who he is in multiple ways to his _husband._

 

Tony wakes to tapping on the door outside of his cell, he blinks his eyes open to see Bucky peering in.

 

“Hey. Tony. You awake yet?”  

 

Tony makes a show of rolling over and groaning in the uncomfortable bed that sits in his cell. He’s been awake for hours but he can’t help but tease Bucky anyway so he mumbles out, “No. Give me five more minutes.”

 

There’s a pause and he can hear Bucky shuffling around instead of coming in. “Really? Oh. Okay. Uh--” Tony can hear the door starting to shut again as Bucky talks but there’s some hesitation in it.

 

Tony rolls his eyes even though he knows that Bucky can’t see him and then laughs and sits up so he can actually look at Bucky. “You were just going to lock me back up here that easily?”

 

Bucky lets out a small puff of laughter. “You’re only a prisoner by technicality. If you want more sleep, I ain’t gunna get in your way. S’rude.”

 

Bucky’s back in his Starfleet uniform. His hair is tied up in his regular bun and he looks a little more at ease than he did on RK-702. The constant air of tension that he had around him whenever Tony came to his cell is gone. Tony can feel his traitorous heart speed up at the sight of him. He _knows_ that Bucky is different from what he knew as Iron Man. He’s had a week to figure that out. That doesn’t make him any less attractive. The sense of longing has lessened but it still burns in the background of his mind whenever he looks at Bucky.

 

Tony snaps out of his thoughts. He can wax poetic about how beautiful Bucky is later. “Well you seemed pretty eager to lock me up last week. Didn’t seem like you cared about being rude then.”

 

Bucky raises an eyebrow at him that Tony can see even in the dim lighting, but Bucky flicks on the light anyway and Tony gets to see the raised eyebrow more clearly. He’s used to that expression as Iron Man. It’s one that Bucky gives him on camera when he’s dubious of something. “Thought you might be Borg then,” Bucky says like it was the obvious assumption. “Ain’t terribly concerned about manners with the Borg. They’re more an assimilate first, talk later sort.”

 

“I think I should be offended by you thinking that I was Borg,” Tony responds. It hurts a little. He’s given Bucky no reason to believe that he’s Borg. Tony knows that the reaction would come from anyone who sees the arc reactor or learns about Extremis, but Bucky doesn’t know about either of those and _still_ assumed the worst from Tony.

 

Bucky just shrugs. “Wouldn’t be the first time I offended you. You want out of there or not?”

 

Tony rolls his eyes, making sure that Bucky can see him this time. “Let me think on it.” He pauses for a moment to pretend to think. “The cell is nice and spacious, people leave me alone, I don’t get to meet any of the crew, or see any of the ship, but I just love the upholstery of it. Has a nice, rustic charm.”

 

“Well, don’t let me get between ya and some good upholstery,” Bucky says dryly before flicking the lights back off. “I’ll come bring you lunch in an hour or so.”

 

“Just let me out.”

 

Bucky feigns leaving for a moment and then laughs as he once again turns the lights on. “You got a permanent place for your foot in your mouth, don’tcha?”

 

Tony returns Bucky’s amused smile and says, “I got a place for both of my feet actually.” As he moves to get off the bed and towards the door to finally leave the cell.

 

“Cozy,” Bucky says as he fiddles with the control panel on the outside of the cell. “In all seriousness, the cafeteria does open in about an hour, if you’re hungry. I’ll show you the way there once I get you all set up.”

 

Tony can’t remember the last time he ate something that wasn’t various things from the forest on RK-702. Everything was always green and most of it he was sure wasn’t meant for humans. After achieving his god status he had to quickly distract the natives enough with talking so they wouldn’t notice that he wasn’t eating all of the food. He’s looking forward to finally eating food that he recognizes again. “As long as you don’t only have food from RK-702 in there, I will gladly eat.”

 

Bucky lets out a snort. “I dunno, I thought that bread stuff was a’ight. A little, uh… Damp? Otherwise fine.”

 

“I hope their soggy bread is on their brochures as a selling point,” Tony replies dryly, feeling a little sick at just the memory of the texture of the soggy bread against his tongue.

 

“You sure it wasn’t the trials to first blood that didn’t win you over? Those were a close second in my opinion,” Bucky says as he looks up from the control panel for a moment. “That bracelet fitting alright, by the way?”

 

Right. The trial. He and Bucky are married and Bucky still has no idea. Tony thinks it’s probably best to just keep it to himself. He doubts that they’ll be going back to RK-702 anytime soon, anyway.

 

“I can definitely say the trials were my favorite part. I think more planets should adopt a trial by combat system for their visitors,” Tony says as he fiddles with the bracelet. He gets the words out in a rush, but they’re true. “Yeah, the bracelet’s fine.”

 

Tony glances up, and watches as Bucky studies him. Tony remembers Bucky saying that he couldn’t figure him out, and it shows now, Tony can see it on his face that Bucky is struggling to make sense of him. Bucky frowns at him, keeps his eyes steady on Tony.

 

“Why do you do that?” Bucky asks. Tony shoots him a questioning look. “Lie like that, I mean. No shame in being spooked by a trial by combat and lyin’ about it ain’t the best way to build trust.”

 

Bucky pauses again for a moment and then raises an eyebrow as he grins at him. “Weren’t you the one on about stickin’ around for a few years?”

 

Tony frowns at him. He searches his words for a lie, but there isn’t one. A lie of omission maybe, since he hasn’t told Bucky about the marriage. “I’m not lying. The trial was the best thing that happened to me while I was there.”

 

Bucky looks surprised for a moment. “You got weird taste, Tony.”

 

Tony watches as Bucky presses a button that finally makes the cell door flicker away so Tony can step out. “C’mon out!”

 

Tony steps out and grins at Bucky. “I think my weird taste is part of my charm.”

 

Bucky snorts at him. “Lemme see that bracelet. Gotta make a couple adjustments.”

 

Tony holds out his arm as Bucky steps closer to him. “What, you don’t think I’m charming?”

 

Bucky’s close enough to him now that Tony can see the way his eyelashes flutter on his cheeks as he adjusts the bracelet. Tony can _also_ see the eyeroll he gets in response, even if Bucky isn’t looking at him. Tony’s dreamed of being this close to Bucky for years, his heart starts pounding as he’s reminded of it. He’s reminded that finally, a week after their first meeting, there’s no bars in between them. The lack of bars don’t stop Tony from being a prisoner, though.

 

Bucky continues fiddling with the bracelet on his arm. Tony had imagined that when he finally got this close to Bucky, he wouldn’t hesitate to kiss him. But now, he’s off balance, he’s not quite sure what to make of Bucky’s character anymore. He realizes that the person he fell in love with isn’t quite the same one that’s standing before him. but it doesn’t stop him from thinking that he could fall in love again anyway.

 

“You don’t make sense, that’s what I think. Probably harmless, but you don’t make a lick of sense,” Bucky says, but he frowns as he does so, like it’s something that is still getting under his skin.

 

Tony grins and shrugs. “I get that a lot. Also, way to avoid the question.”

 

He’s determined not to let him off that easily, and Bucky seems to dodge things he doesn’t want to talk about. It’s no different from RK-702, when he dodged all of Tony’s questions.

 

Bucky grins back at him for a moment before returning to the bracelet. “I get that a lot.”

 

“I’m sure I can get you to answer my questions eventually.”

 

“That so?” Bucky asks looking up at him. “Why’s it matter to you anyway? You don’t gotta charm me anymore. You’re more or less free.”

 

Tony frowns. He’s certain he didn’t imagine the last week on RK-702 and he had thought that he and Bucky had gotten on _semi_ -friendly terms. Bucky’s looking at him like he’s waiting for Tony to agree, like he fully expects that Tony is going to just leave him alone now that Bucky’s no longer his prisoner.

 

“We talked about the making friends thing didn't we? I’m not going to stop wanting to be friends just because I don’t have a reason to hang around you anymore.”

 

Bucky stares at him, his face entirely blank. He doesn’t say anything as he continues to work on the bracelet. Then he presses something on the top of it and Tony watches as he flashes red, or, he guesses it flashes red as the color lights up Bucky’s face for a moment in a soft glow. Bucky pats the top of the bracelet and pushes Tony’s wrist back towards him. Tony frowns at Bucky’s gloved hand, wishing that he didn’t need it. He’s met Vulcans before, he knows they’re touch telepaths but Tony doesn’t think that even getting a bit of insight into Bucky’s mind would help him understand Bucky any better.

 

“There. That should do it. You got access to anythin’ on the ship that a civilian would be able to access. The bracelet’s just precautionary now. More of a monitor than anythin’, but doesn’t have cameras or mics on it, don’t worry. Just logs where you are. Only time it’ll affect you in any substantial way is if you plan on leavin’ the _Avenger_ without formally submitting notice. Off the ship, you gotta stay within 100 meters of either Captain Rogers or myself. Make sense?”

 

Tony rubs his wrist as he stares at Bucky while he talks. It’s not Bucky avoiding a question this time but it is him avoiding something that he doesn’t want to talk about. Or maybe he just doesn’t believe Tony. He’s not fond of it either way but he lets it drop, he’ll have time to get Bucky to be comfortable around him later. “Yeah it makes sense. Seems like a lot of freedom for a prisoner.”

 

Bucky winces at that. “Only a prisoner by technicality. This whole ship requires high-level security clearance. You’re more of an… unplanned passenger. Til we can get proper reports in to the Feds, anyway. Speakin’ of. Gunna need to take your statement for the report. You ready now, or...?”

 

Tony bites on his lip to stop the hysterical laughter that threatens to come out. All of that sounds like something that needs his identity and he’s doing his best for it not to come into play at all. It’s best for the crewmembers of the _Avenger_ if they don’t know they’re harboring an exiled prince, much less one that was exiled after being accused of being Borg. Tony doesn’t think that will go over well normally, but especially not this close after a Borg attack on the ship. “What do you need for it?”

 

“Full name, birthplanet, surviving family if you got neither of those. Some kind of ID. Blood sample, too. And your version of the events,” Bucky says casually, like he’s not asking for Tony to give up everything that he’s hiding, no questions asked. He’d rather stay a prisoner indefinitely. Bucky gives him a smile then. “Even if I suspect you’re gunna throw me under the bus.”

 

“No. I’m not ready. We can do that later.” Tony knows as soon as the words are out of his mouth that Bucky is going to question it.

 

“You alright?” Bucky asks.

 

“Sure.” Tony puts on his best grin. “I just don’t like needles. Have to prepare myself for giving away my blood.”

 

Bucky frowns at him. “You’re a terrible liar. Y’know that?”

 

“I think someone told me that recently but I just can’t remember who it was,” Tony says grinning at Bucky as he pauses to think. “Yeah, I can’t remember. Do you have any ideas?”

 

Bucky laughs at him for a moment then and Tony feels his heart pound a little at Bucky’s laugh. He’s made Bucky laugh plenty as Iron Man, but it’s different seeing it in person, it’s different being close enough to him that he can have the sound wash over him.

 

“Case in point,” Bucky says as he puts away his equipment. He pauses for a moment before starting to walk away. “Dunno why you’re lyin’, but. Take your time. Not like you’re goin’ anywhere with that thing on your wrist anyways, so…” He lets out a laugh but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Maybe if you practice enough, you can come up with somethin’ half convincin’.”

 

Tony rolls his eyes. Tony’s pretty sure that he’s a good liar. He was able to lie to all of the Lagom Ring about the Borg tech that’s firmly planted in the middle of his chest. It’s unnerving that Bucky is able to call him out without a second thought. It’s as though he figures it out before Tony even finishes speaking at times. Then he has an idea.  

 

 _J, monitor my vitals and tell me if there is any indication for when I lie?_ Tony asks Jarvis, he needs to test it out, he’s certain there isn’t anything that gives him away.

 

_Of course, Sir._

 

“Well, since you’re apparently a walking lie detector, how about you let me practice on you and see if I can be more convincing then?” Tony asks.

 

Bucky stares at him. “Am not. You’re just…” He frowns as his brows draw together and he tries to settle on a word. “I dunno. As much easy to read as you don’t make sense.”

 

“That’s not very helpful feedback,” Tony says as he laughs. “What makes me easy to read? I won’t know how to improve if I don’t know what to change.”

 

Bucky gives him a small forced smile, like he doesn’t want to help Tony be a better liar at all. “Or you could try tellin’ me the truth.”

 

Tony bites his lip again for a moment. He wants to tell Bucky. _God_ , does he want to tell him, but he knows that he’s putting him in enough danger already by being on the ship and not knowing anything about Tony will be safer in the long run. So instead he says, “Humor me for a moment?”

 

Bucky rolls his eyes at him but a smile comes out as he does so. “Like I do anythin’ but. Go on. What is it?”

 

Tony nods. “Truth or lie? I have a brother.”

 

 _There is no sign in your vitals that would indicate you are lying, Sir._ Just as Tony suspected.

 

Bucky bursts out laughing immediately, genuine laughter that Tony can see trembling through his body, the kind that is contagious and Tony feels himself smile. “Yeah? Evil twin and everythin’? That’s a lie.”

 

“I would definitely be the good twin,” Tony says. “Truth or lie. I’ve never had a pet.”

 

 _No data indicates a difference from the lie._ Tony quickly tells Jarvis to keep monitoring and focuses his attention on Bucky.

 

Bucky tilts his head for a moment as he studies Tony, that one seems to trip him up a bit more. “Truth… I think. Where you goin’ with this?”

 

Tony looks at him. He can’t tell Bucky the whole truth, not yet, maybe not ever. He’s fine with Bucky not knowing Tony as a whole if it means that he gets to remain safe. But he can give him small reassurances if it helps. “Just testing something. You’re right about both of those. Last one.”

 

He pauses for a moment, thinks it over and then starts talking before he can think better of it. “You’re right, I am lying to you. So here’s the final one. Truth or lie: I would never do anything to hurt you.”

 

Tony doesn’t look away from Bucky as he says it. He watches Bucky’s face, searching for a reaction, but Bucky just swallows and stares back at Tony like he’s searching for something too. Like he’s trying to make sense of him and he still can’t figure it out. Tony supposes that if a stranger he’s known for a week said that to him he’d be caught off guard too.

 

Bucky doesn’t say anything about it in the end. Instead he ignores it, deflects to something else which Tony notices is becoming increasingly common in his presence. “Put your foot up here on this step. I’ll take the anklet off, then we can get you to the cafeteria. Bet you’re starvin’, huh?”

 

_Sir, there are no indicators from your vitals, your facial expressions, or your speaking patterns that differentiate between instances when you are telling the truth and when you are lying. A remarkable feat and a stunning indicator of Lagom Ring politics, but alarming in your current circumstances. You are correct in finding Commander Barnes’ intuition unnerving._

 

Tony nods, letting the subject change. “Yeah, you going to have lunch with me?”

 

“Maybe.” He pauses for a moment then, before grinning up at Tony. “One time I won a goldfish from one of those school fairs and named it Oregano. He lived for eight years. Drove my ma nuts.”

 

Tony laughs. “Suddenly divulging things from your childhood?”

 

“Hardly. C’mon, Tony. That was a lie. I named him _Basil,”_ Bucky says teasingly.

 

Tony blinks. He hadn’t been expecting Bucky to play along. “You didn’t tell me I had to guess. That breaks the rules.”

 

Bucky shrugs. “Yeah, well. You never give fair warnin’ before you do something bizarre and unpredictable. Fair’s fair.”

 

“Everything I do is bizarre and unpredictable,” Tony protests. “I’d never be able to say anything else because I would be warning you with every breath.”

 

“So count me unsympathetic,” Bucky says grinning at him. “Try this one on for size: I’ve never actually had taffy. Truth or a lie?”

 

Tony searches for anything in Bucky’s expression that would give him a hint but Bucky keeps fiddling with the ankle monitor, nothing betraying him. “Truth?” Tony asks.

 

Bucky’s grin grows. “You sound so confident about it.”

 

“It’s a truth,” Tony says more certainly. “You going to tell me if I’m right or keep me in the dark?”

 

“‘Give me five more minutes’ right?” Bucky says, the teasing tone apparent in his voice as he looks up at Tony.

 

Tony laughs. “You already gave me a lie. So if you’re following my example there’s two truths left. But if you want to nap for five minutes before the next one, be my guest.”

 

“Well, if you insist--” Bucky says as he leans over to rest on the control panel, letting his eyes fall shut.

 

Tony stays silent as he watches Bucky. The whole thing is different from RK-702. Bucky’s joking around with him, Bucky seems to be actually enjoying Tony’s company for the time being and Tony’s not about to open his mouth and ruin that for himself. So he stays silent, he stays silent and watches Bucky who keeps his eyes shut, and Tony enjoys being able to look at him as he does so. He can’t get over the novelty of it. That he’s able to see Bucky in person and not just have to wait for the next video call or rewatch the small videos that Bucky sends him of the arm or of him with his pets.

 

Bucky opens one eye. “Really? That’s it? That’s all it took to get you to stop tryin’ to charm me?”

 

Tony smiles at him and shrugs. “I’ve been told it’s polite to let people sleep. Are you admitting I’m charming now?”

 

Bucky lets out a laugh, a genuine one that reverberates through the room as he sits forward to finish taking the anklet off of Tony. He quickly drops it onto the control box before standing back up, brushing off his uniform and then fixing Tony with a look. “Last one, then. Ready?”

 

Tony nods, staring back at him, he’s tempted to make a joke but Bucky’s playing along and he’s trying to tread lightly.

 

“You’re charmin’ as all hell, Tony,” Bucky says and then frowns. “It’s part of why you unnerve me. Charmin’ nonetheless.”

 

Tony’s not sure how to respond to that but it feels like a step in the right direction. It’s minor, but it’s enough to make his heart pound loud enough that he’s sure he won’t be able to hear his thoughts over it. He tries not to focus on that too long and instead smiles as Bucky before asking. “Time for lunch then? I think I can charm you while we eat too.”

 

“Ever the optimist, ain’t you?” Bucky shakes his head. “Sure. C’mon. I’ll show you where the caf is.”

 

* * *

 

 

**BUCKY**

 

Iron Man hadn’t been kidding about not being a fan of the remote setup. For someone so dedicated to anonymity, he’d wanted to organize a way to call almost immediately. Except with Iron Man, nothing is ever that simple. Initially it had looked like the world’s creepiest one-way video chat. Bucky would appear awkwardly on camera and speak as he went through the diagnostics and gold text from Iron Man would light up the screen in a live response. Bucky had made an offhanded comment once-- _once_ \--that the calls felt imbalanced and the next thing he knew, Iron Man had set up a fully animated program.

 

The calls still started the same; Bucky would open the application and let it sit until Iron Man could start up the connection.Instead of just a text command indicating his arrival, a tiny robot man made of bright red and gold plating would peek out from around the corner of the application. He would push a dialogue box out in front of the middle of the big black screen reading ‘ACCEPT?’ and wait there until Bucky pressed the button.

 

It had charmed Bucky to pieces the first time he saw it and the animation had since upgraded to come with a little opening number; song included and everything. [‘Amazing tech--that’s Iron Man! A blazing power--that’s Iron Man!’](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LjTIVaSnRR0)

 

Now the proud little Iron Man figurine ducks under Bucky’s open windows and points impatiently at the ‘ACCEPT’ button. Bucky smiles at him, adjusting a strand of hair self-consciously as his webcam light blinks on.

 

“Hi starling,” Iron Man says, though not so much audibly. There’s sound, sure, but it’s the 8-bit scramble from old video games, nonsense and gibberish accompanying classic speech bubbles like the kind from old comic books.

 

Bucky’s heartbeat speeds up at the pet name as he realizes it’s been a week since he heard it last.

 

“Hi, doll.” Bucky tries to keep his voice from getting embarrassingly soft and doesn’t really mind when he fails to do so. “Missed you. Sorry I scared you.”

 

“I’m glad you’re okay. Want to tell me what you were doing in a cell for a week?” Iron Man perches on the edge of the application, legs kicking back and forth like he’s expecting a story.

 

Bucky tilts forward and catches his face in his hand so that he can pinch the bridge of his nose and try to stave off the headache of the past week. “You ain’t gonna believe this. First, I arrested a god.”

 

“Wait, no.” He pauses, sits up straight, then frowns into the camera. Tony wasn’t going to be the most interesting part of this story for Iron Man. “First we got attacked by the _Borg_.”

 

Iron Man leaps up and an exclamation mark appears over his head. “You got attacked by the Borg? Are you okay?”

 

“No casualties,” Bucky reports automatically. Though it had apparently been a close call. One of the ensigns on the lower decks had fractured their spine in several places on impact. Thankfully, it was nothing medical bay couldn’t handle, but… Bucky holds his arm up in front of the camera and watches his own image darken, lighten, then refocus as the camera lens tries to make sense of the sparks flying out of his wrist when he turns it too quickly. One of the fingers twitches against his will and he winces. “We crash landed. Gotta say; it was a weird way to wake up.”

 

The exclamation point over Iron Man’s head triples and the three of them flash red and gold in alarm. For a moment, Iron Man just stands there fretting aggressively at him. Then he shakes his head as if to clear it and speaks again.

 

“So you got attacked by Borg, crash landed, and then you arrested a god?”

 

The laugh startles out of Bucky’s chest and already some of the weight of his stress is lifted. “Sounds crazy when you say it like that.”

 

“Is that not what happened?”

 

“Well, he wasn’t a _god_ ,” Bucky insists stubbornly because even if Tony is somehow managing to grow on him, that doesn’t mean he’s going to give Tony the satisfaction. “I mean. He was kinda. The locals thought he was a god ‘cuz he used tech in front of them. But he was balls-deep in the guts of the Avenger when I found him and actin’ sketchy as all hell.” Bucky shrugs and puffs out a sigh. “I panicked.”

 

Iron Man’s shoulders shake with laughter. “Sounds like you were having a rough day. So you panic arrested a god. How’d the locals react to that?”

 

“Not well. Had me arrested. Then there was this whole trial by combat and they made me wear leaves, doll. _Leaves_. Like I said. It got complicated. Wasn’t able to communicate with anyone electronically, either,” Bucky says. He tacks on that last bit in a way he hopes was casual and not like a desperate bid of ‘hey, please don’t be mad.’ He’d only been on the receiving end of Iron Man’s ire a couple times (only one of which was actually his fault), but it was an unpleasant place to be. And he isn’t lying about having missed his friend. Whatever Iron Man is to him, it’s important. Just to be safe, he fixes the camera with a look he hopes is kicked-puppy sad. Iron Man tilts his head to the side and the eye slits in his faceplate narrow. “Wouldn’t have left ya hangin’ like that by choice. You know that, right?”

 

Stevie always says that Bucky’s got a silver tongue, and Bucky always feels more confident when it’s Iron Man he’s talking to--but Bucky still feels like he’s operating on a wing and a prayer when Iron Man seems to silently consider the words.

 

“Their punishment for you arresting someone was arresting you?”

 

Bucky smiles. “Yeah. Circular, ain’t it?”

 

Iron Man nods and taps his finger to his chin. “Something like that. You have a picture of this leaf attire? I need it for research purposes.”

 

Bucky bats his eyelashes dramatically, giving Iron Man a wide-eyed, innocent look. “You do? Well damn, doll. I wish I’d known. I had the whole outfit sent down to be incinerated as soon as I made it back to the ship.”

 

“That’s a shame.” The red and gold figurine slumps down to the ground in disappointment and Bucky’s already fishing out the selfies he’d taken before he tucked the attire away carefully in the back of his wardrobe for safe keeping. He sends two of the best ones while Iron Man is busy lamenting. “You should have--...Oh.”

 

Bucky grins at the camera.

 

Little polaroids flutter down from the top of the application window and Iron Man uses jet propulsors on the underside of his shoes to fly up and snatch them out of the air. He nods at them, and little hearts start flooding out around him in a rainbow of colours. “I think the locals are onto something. You look stunning, starling.”

 

Bucky ignores the flush he can feel spread across his cheeks. He channels more of that intoxicating confidence, and tries to imagine that maybe he could be the fearless commander he is around Iron Man. “C’mon, doll. We been talkin’ for how long? Think I know you pretty well by now.”

 

“I would hope so,” Iron Man says without missing a beat. He tucks the pictures into some open panel on the armour and considers Bucky again. Bucky raises an eyebrow at him. Red and gold shoulders shrug a little and another big shimmering heart grows from Iron Man’s chest and floats out towards Bucky. “I do know that you wouldn’t have left me like that on purpose.”

 

“Good. Was worried, a little bit.” He drums his good fingers against the desk and chews the inside of his cheek. “You’da loved it. RK-702, I mean. It was just like I imagined, y’know?”

 

Iron Man heaves a happy sigh and honest to god floats down to the bottom of the screen where he can roll onto his stomach and kick his legs back and forth like he’s expecting to share stories at a sleepover. Bucky grins.

 

“Skyscrapers made of woven plants, everything moving and growing constantly. It was like the green of it had a heartbeat of its own, doll.”

 

“That sounds amazing.” Iron Man’s words underline themselves briefly before fading away into the blackness and he doodles little trees and vines that look like a decent approximation of the ones Bucky remembered seeing in textbooks. As he does, Iron Man asks, “You want to run through the normal motions for me on your arm so I can get the diagnostics I need? Then you can tell me about the date you would’ve taken me on on this planet.”

 

Bucky laughs and ignores the dull ache in his shoulder from the movement. “Missed you too, doll. Ready when you are.”

 

A conductor’s needle appears in Iron Man’s hand and his favorite animated version of Bucky pops into existence beside him. The tree and vine doodles are temporarily forgotten as Iron Man pokes at the animated arm and gestures for Bucky to lift it up as high as it can go.

 

“Like we normally do. Just start by showing me how far you can move it in each direction.”

 

Bucky raises the arm out in front of him and pauses when a sharp sting lances through what’s left of his shoulder socket. He shakes the muscle a little then keeps going. The soreness starts slow, but becomes increasingly more apparent the higher he raises his hand. He twists the forearm this way and that, but the ache seems undeterred. Then he raises it just one inch higher and something makes an unpleasant snapping noise before all hell storms though the nerve receptors.

 

He sucks in air through his teeth and bites down on a grimace, trying to hold his arm exactly in place. Sometimes stillness will make the phantom pain recede, but he can’t tell if it’s phantom or--

 

Something near his elbow sparks and crackles and he’s pretty sure that it’s very much real.

 

“Shit. Hold on,” he says, trying to tap on the plates surrounding his elbow. One of them jiggles when he presses on it and another wave of pain drags down his spine. “Hurts a bit when it’s at this angle.”

 

Iron Man’s conductor needle vanishes without a trace and the animated Bucky makes a distressed yelping sound before taking a seat so that Iron Man can fuss at him directly. “How bad is the pain?”

 

“It’s… not the best. Maybe a six on a scale of ten?” He scrunches up his nose and breathes out slowly, careful not to lower his arm too quickly. A plate further up on his forearm creaks as he moves and he sees another spark with just seconds warning before the pain gets worse. “Seven. Solid seven.”

 

The animated Bucky is gone, and Iron Man is watching him raptly. “Is that as much as you can move it?”

 

Bucky tries to let the arm rest on the table more quickly and that’s definitely a mistake. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to focus on evening out his breathing. “Yep, looks like.” The hot prickle of tears in the corner of his eyes threatens to make an appearance and Bucky forces a grin instead to show Iron Man he’ll be okay.

 

“Starling, if it’s causing you this much pain, you’ll need to get it looked at immediately.”

 

Bucky doesn’t miss the distressed urgency in Iron Man’s voice, but he feels helpless to address it. He lets out a long, slow sigh when the arm rests fully on the table. “Bruce’s on shore leave for at least another three days. I’ll be alright, doll. Just gotta get functional for Stevie’s wedding.”

 

“You might damage your arm more if you keep putting it off,” Iron Man warns. Instead of cute animations, Iron Man is scrolling through different images of the arm schematic on the screen and Bucky watches as an invisible pen makes scribbles and notes in the margins. One of the gears near his bicep gets a big red circle and a bunch of question marks. Iron Man looks back to Bucky. “Is there anyone else that can help you?”

 

“Other than you? Not really, doll. And you ain’t exactly here, so… I can wait,” Bucky says, shrugging. He immediately regrets the shrug, but his answer stays resolute. Knowledge that the arm exists could get someone kicked out of Starfleet. Actually tampering with it could result in jail time. It would be a leak of confidential information, tampering with Starfleet property, and being in contact with an intergalactic fugitive all the while. Bucky shakes his head slowly. “Not gunna saddle some ensign with this.”

 

Iron Man mirrors the gesture and stubbornly crosses his arms over his chest. “Just someone who can do what Bruce was doing. I can walk them through things. Come on, I’m sure you have plenty of engineers on that giant starship.”

 

Bucky frowns. “They’re all part of the crew, doll. I don’t wanna get’em caught up in the fuckin’ politics of this damn arm if I can help it--Oh. Hm.”

 

Bucky freezes mid-thought, remembering Tony’s insistence on helping fix the Avenger after she crashed. He wasn’t Starfleet. He wasn’t even a sanctioned passenger.

 

“Something wrong, starling?”

 

“Well.” Bucky scowls. “There’s the guy I arrested. He’s not on the crew, but….” He shakes his head. “No. Not a good idea. I can wait, doll, I’ll be fine.”

 

Animated Bucky reappears with several of Iron Man’s cartoon droids spinning around him. Iron Man points to the stylized Borg arm.

 

“The longer you wait, the more damaged your arm might get and it may take a longer amount of time to fix it. Which would cause you more pain.” To illustrate this, Animated Bucky lifts his arm up and it immediately bursts into flames. Bucky laughs as the droids put out the flame with big, puffed up clouds of foam from built-in fire extinguishers. His animated counterpart pouts up at him with his foam covered arm. Iron Man produces a towel from thin air and pats down the metal plating as gently as his frame rate will allow. He looks over his shoulder at the real Bucky. “Do you not think you can trust him?”

 

“I don’t know him. He’s… I dunno. Hard to read,” Bucky says simply. This time he catches himself before the urge to shrug gets away from him and instead stays triumphantly still. He could absolutely handle a week or so of this. “But if he leaked the information, he’s technically already a prisoner and…” Bucky pauses to frown. The whole idea sits wrong with him. It’s an unnecessary risk. “I don’t like it.”

 

“It doesn’t sound like he can do anything to you,” Iron Man laughs. “People tend to put more faith in gods, you know.”

 

Bucky snickers. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t wanna take advantage of the guy. He ain’t done anythin’ to land himself in a mess like this.” He thinks for a second. “Well. He _has_ , but. Seems underhanded.”

 

Iron Man wrings his hands and looks pitifully at him the best his little pixelated avatar can. Bucky’s convinced he’s perfected the animation sequence specifically to tug on Bucky’s heartstrings.

 

“I’d feel a lot better if you talked to him, starling.”

 

“That’s cheating, doll.” Bucky sighs, calling out the adorable sequence for exactly what it is. But Iron Man doesn’t relent and damn him that he knows Bucky so well. Bucky’s willpower crumples like damp tissue paper and he gives in. “I’ll think about it. ….You’d be talking to a stranger instead of Bruce. You wouldn’t be worried about that?”

 

Iron Man laughs again and Bucky physically feels relieved.

 

“Most of being Iron Man is talking to strangers. People who work in Borg tech don’t exactly go around announcing who they are. Everyone who comes to me for something is anonymous. Not much different from what I’m used to.”

 

“I guess,” Bucky concedes with a half smile. “I just worry ‘bout you, doll. Don’t want you riskin’ your neck on my behalf. I can handle a dead arm for a week. Ain’t that bad.”

 

“That’s sweet of you, starling. But I’m pretty confident in my security. You haven’t figured out my identity and it’s been years. I doubt that he’s going to guess for the hour at most that we need him.”

 

Like magic, Iron Man is always able to drag Bucky away from his fears and stress, tugging a smile to the surface as he does. Now is no different. “I like to think I’m gettin’ pretty close. You happen to be a nice little old grandpa that goes by ‘Randolph’ living on the Delta Cluster?”

 

In a split second, Iron Man grows a long white beard and hunches over a cane. He waves it at the camera and picks up one of his droids that has been swaddled in a bright blue blanket. “Well damn, guess the secret’s out. I have to go tell my 18 grandkids that we have to move again.”

 

Bucky laughs, careful not to jostle his shoulder. The longer he lets it rest, the more the pain recedes. It’s back down to just being a little irritating.

 

“Nice try, _Randy_. You’ve only got seven grandkids.”

 

A few of the swaddled droids disappear in poofs and Iron Man looks to Bucky for approval. Bucky grins back.

 

“Cmon. You gunna give me another hint, or do I gotta risk bein’ humiliated by the new guy?” Bucky bats his eyes at the camera.

 

“That’s not how this works, starling. You first. You’re always first.”

 

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, sure.”

 

He goes quiet for a second. He and Iron Man have been exchanging hints for years. He maintains that it's absolutely unfair that he has to dig up some deep secret about himself just to come marginally closer to knowing who Iron Man is. Not that he would ever know for sure. Bucky knows that, but it still feels like something he can cling to.

 

“Stevie’s wedding is comin’ up,” he says, going for topical. “Think I told you about that. But here’s my truth for ya, doll: I look _damn_ good in a tux.”

 

Animated Bucky appears again, Zenon this time in a tuxedo with a bright red cumberbund. Bucky smiles as Iron Man has him do a little twirl. The red and gold head nods approvingly before a small torrent of rainbow hearts flood out from Iron Man's chest. Bucky’s grin stretches a little at the corners and he feels that addictive thrill he gets when Iron Man flirts back.

 

He tests his luck.

 

“Think if you didn’t have this whole anonymous intergalactic fugitive aesthetic going on, you might wanna be my date? So, what’dya say? Ditch the Iron Man schtick and go dancing with me?”

 

Something in his arm crackles in protest to the idea of dancing and Bucky cringes. “Er. Maybe not dancing right away, but…”

 

“I’d love to be your date,” Iron Man says without missing a beat and Bucky’s heart skips a couple times too many to not show on his face so he just smiles down at his desk instead. “I still can’t tell you, though. Here’s my truth: I was taught to dance very young. I’m actually good at it, we could spend the whole night dancing at the wedding. Bet I know some cultural dances you’ve never even heard of, but I’d teach them to you.”

 

Iron Man wraps a gentle hand around animated Bucky’s, and pulls him close. He lets go for a second and bows low. Animated Bucky mimics the bow and is quickly swept away into a fancy looking waltz that Bucky can’t quite track. His animated counterpart stares down at their feet as they move, leaning into Iron Man’s hold like a damsel from a hHarlequin romance. Bucky’s smile is soft and pairs with the deep longing ache in his chest that he can’t quite seem to get rid of when Iron Man’s on his screen. Especially not when the red and gold man makes a big show of spinning Bucky before pulling him impossibly close.

 

 _I wish that were real,_ Bucky wants to say. But instead, he says, “...Know one with a halberd I bet you don’t know. RK-702 special.”

 

“Yeah? Did they make you dance in between keeping you prisoner and making you do a trial by combat?” Iron Man keeps the dance going, slower, his faceplate nearly brushing against animated Bucky’s nose and Bucky has to stop himself from reaching up with a hand to touch his own cheek and wonder what it would be like to feel Iron Man so close instead of impossibly far.

 

“All fightin’ is like dancing, doll,” Bucky says matter-of-factly. “I’ll show you sometime.”

 

He registers the words as soon as they leave his mouth as not being nearly as smooth as he’d hoped and comes immediately crashing back down from cloud nine. Did he just threaten to _fight_ Iron Man? _Christ_ , Barnes. _Get it together._

 

“I know. Like I said, I’m very good at dancing,” Iron Man says, apparently unbothered. “You want to tell me how you’d show me anyway?”

 

Bucky swallows down his rising nerves and remembers to straighten up his posture as best he can, shoulder considering, and tosses on his brightest grin. This is the part of their calls he knows best. Every time Bucky goes somewhere new, he gets to experience it once in person, and then again through Iron Man. He describes the world as he remembers it, in as much detail as possible, while the red and gold robot scribbles approximations all over his screen excitedly.

 

Every time, there is one constant. Iron Man depicts the world as best he can on Bucky’s words alone, but his animated counterpart commands the field confidently. No matter how many monsters the _Avenger_ encounters, no matter how many pits of lava he nearly sticks his arm into (twice), no matter how many times he gets shot, arrested, or mugged? The animated Commander Barnes remains fearless. He faces down threats with a dashing smile and a wink, sometimes even a little dialogue bubble with a pun if Iron Man can think of one fast enough. It always makes Bucky look like a hero. Like someone who’s meant to be exploring the stars. There is never a trace of how lost Bucky almost always feels. No aching loneliness. No bone-deep fear.

 

Maybe he plays it up a little when he re-tells the stories. But Iron Man’s animations might be the only place where Bucky so clearly belonged--was so clearly meant to exist. He isn’t about to give that up for anything.

 

“There was this canopy in RK-702. Passed it on the way to the village. This alleged god and I were squabblin’ something fierce, but, doll, you shoulda seen it. The place was _beautiful_.” Bucky pauses, ignoring the fleeting guilt at remembering how he’d thought Tony was beautiful too. He shakes the thought from his head and continues. “The way the vines braided themselves reminded me of those patterned language ropes from the Tresă system. Y’know, the ones that spell out phrases in intricate knots? Except these were green and I swear you could see ’em growin’ in real time.”

 

* * *

 

 

**TONY**

Tony’s been trying to ignore Bucky for the better part of an hour. But his presence remains pacing outside of the doors of engineering and and Tony can’t focus. He encouraged Bucky to come talk to him and he’s finding himself growing increasingly impatient the longer that Bucky takes to talk to him. He knows he shouldn’t push as Bucky seemed reluctant on video, but Tony is concerned about the arm, especially if it had been causing Bucky this much pain. He’s trying not to think about Bucky’s arm causing him pain for the past week, or the fact that Tony had barely noticed. It’s late and Tony’s starting to worry that Bucky will give up and not ask him about the arm at all.

 

It’s late enough that Jarvis has started nagging at him about his vitals and his need to sleep and there’s the downside of having an AI attached to your person at all times. There’s no shutting him off and Tony hasn’t figured out a way to change Jarvis’s code with the tools he has available to him. He’s not going to pull it up on a federation regulated machine and his PADD does not have the capability to do what he needs for any necessary changes or updates.

 

Tony sighs, he looks out through the tinted glass from engineering once again and yeah, Bucky’s still there. He reaches for the door for a moment, stares down at it with his hand near the control panel to open it and then drops his hand just as quickly before starting to pace again. Tony can’t take it anymore. He marches over to the door and opens it.

 

“You going to come in or continue anxiously walking around out here?” Tony asks.

 

Bucky lets out an honest to god yelp and stares at Tony wide eyed but doesn’t say anything.

 

Tony frowns at him, maybe this was a mistake. He should probably just wait for Bucky to come to him. “Okay? Right. I’ll just… leave you to it then,” Tony says and then moves to shut the door and go back to his work that he cannot focus on.

 

“No! Sorry, I--” Bucky says and then he coughs as though he’s trying to regain his composure. “You surprised me. S’all. I, uh.” Bucky looks increasingly uncomfortable and Tony watches as his eyes dart around before settling on Tony’s. “Are you, uh. Busy? At the moment?”

 

“Not super busy,” Tony says, or at least he hasn’t been since Bucky showed up outside of the door. “Besides, I always have time for you.”

 

That seems to catch Bucky off guard. “You what?”

 

Tony smirks, he knows that he probably shouldn’t go around repeating Iron Man’s words but he figures that it’s small enough not to give him away. “I know you heard me. Did you need something?”

 

Bucky stares at him for a moment before shaking his head. “Yeah, I--” He stops and gestures towards the engineering deck. “I, uh. Need a favor. Somewhere more private?”

 

Tony frowns at him. “Sure. Lead the way.”

 

Bucky nods and begins walking towards the engineering deck, Tony notices the way that he’s holding his arm. He’s not hiding it as well as he did on RK-702. Tony hopes that Bucky not hiding it well means that he’s made up his mind to tell him. “S’it just you haunting around engineering this late?”

“Yeah. And you, I guess. Kind of made it hard to work with you pacing outside for almost an hour,” Tony says shrugging.

 

Bucky winces. “Sorry. Just… Here, lemme get the door.” Bucky gets the electronic locks before walking back to Tony.

 

“You got a private computer? Somethin’ secure?”

 

Tony nods. “I have my PADD. Why?”

 

“Was never great with this kinda thing. It’s probably better if you hear it from him.” Tony relaxes when he realizes that Bucky is actually taking Iron Man’s suggestion to ask Tony for help. “Though…”

 

“That’s vague and ominous,” Tony says instead of anything that would make him lie flatout during this. He already knows that Bucky would pick up on it immediately and he can’t have Bucky wondering why Tony would be lying a lot when it comes to Iron Man.

 

Bucky lets out a snort. “Humor me?”

 

“Like I ever do anything but,” Tony responds through a smile as he remembers Bucky’s words from earlier.

 

“You ever hear of the folks that study Borg tech? Not the sympathizers. The, uh. Researchers?”

 

“Yeah, I’m familiar with them,” Tony says calmly even though he wants to laugh. Familiar is an understatement, _familiar_ doesn’t even begin to cover it.

 

Bucky smiles at him slightly. “Yeah, I imagine. Uh.” He clears his throat. “...Iron Man?”

 

“The fugitive?” Tony asks, doing his best to keep his expression neutral.

 

“The scientist,” Bucky responds defensively.

 

Tony raises an eyebrow at him. “Is there a law saying that fugitives can’t be scientists now?”

 

“I...I guess not.” Bucky laughs then, one that’s nervous and fake and clearly uncomfortable and Tony immediately hates it. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

 

Tony can’t have that. He doesn’t want Bucky waiting for Bruce to return from shore leave and it’ll be easier for Tony to work on the arm directly instead of waiting for Bruce. He needs Bucky to trust him. He’d rather cut out Bruce altogether, he thinks Bruce would prefer for him to be cut out as well if their conversation earlier is anything to go by. Tony bites his lip. “I’m guessing whatever it is, it’s a pretty big secret, right?”

 

Bucky lets out a snort and then dryly says, “Yeah, monumental.” He shakes his head. “Sorry for the interruption. I’ll get out of your hair.”

 

Tony does his best not to panic. He can do this. He can get Bucky to trust him for the while that he needs to just to fix his arm. “Okay. Hey, truth or lie.”

 

Bucky blinks at him and looks taken aback for a moment, but he’s giving Tony a small smile as he asks, “You serious?”

 

Tony returns the smile. “Humor me.”

 

Bucky lets out a grin then. “Like I do anything but.” He nods. “Fine. Bought a sports car with my first federation check on shore leave. It’s still parked somewhere on Pomiscus.”

 

Tony laughs, that’s a story that Bucky has told Iron Man previously. “Truth. I did my first tech project at fourteen.”

 

Bucky’s eyebrows raise at that. “You’re telling the truth. Fourteen? _Christ.”_ Tony shrugs but doesn’t say anything else, he can’t go telling Bucky that his first project was Borg tech. Bucky doesn’t seem to notice as he chews on his lip and tries to think of his own truth or lie. Then a grin spreads on his face. “I’m an only child.”

 

Tony rolls his eyes, he’s met proof against that statement already, and he’d know that it’s a lie even if Tony hadn’t met Steve. “Lie. Truth or lie. I never travelled outside the Delta Cluster.”

 

 _Nothing in your vitals indicate that you are lying, Sir,_ Jarvis says and it’s that that makes Tony suspicious. If he can lie about something that’s so far from the truth without a single tell, then how is Bucky able to read him so easily?

 

Bucky just laughs at it. “So you got one truth left then.”

 

Tony smiles and nods. “Last one then. I won’t tell anyone whatever it is you brought me in here for.” Jarvis quickly assures him that it is the truth but there is no difference in it from his lie. Tony ignores him to hold eye contact with Bucky, he stares back at him

 

Bucky looks away from him for a moment while he swallows. His fingers tap on the workbench before them for a moment as he frowns at the wall and then turns back to Tony. “See what I mean? That kinda charm’s somethin’ dangerous.” He pauses and smiles. “My turn, right?”

 

Tony returns his smile, Bucky’s not looking to leave anymore so he figures he’s done something right. He looks nervous but not like he’s about to run. “You’re right. I ain’t an only child. Had a sister before Captain Rogers Sr. found me. Becca. She and my parents were killed by the Borg. Almost was too.” He pulls off his jacket then to reveal his arm. It’s worse in person. It looks worse than the video call and Tony’s left wondering if Bucky was lying about how much pain it’s actually causing him. The arm sparks around the joints and Tony can hear the faint crackling and he can’t help but wonder how he missed that the past week. “Left me alive with a souvenir. Kinda need your help fixin’ it.”

 

Tony can’t focus on the arm too long, he can’t try and feign a reaction, Bucky’ll see right through it. So he does the most honest thing he can think of, shrugs and says, “Okay, what can I do?”

 

Bucky stares at him for a moment before bursting out with laughter and Tony can see the tension leave him even as the arm continues to spark. “Sorry, sorry, just. Gimme a second. That was uh. Hah. Here, gimme your PADD.”

 

Tony can’t have that. He can’t have Bucky trying to call Iron Man with Tony’s PADD. He needs it to be able to connect to it through Extremis and use it for the call himself. He can’t have the traffic for the call coming and going from the same device. “You can’t use yours?” Tony asks.

 

Bucky shakes his head. “Needs to be a non-Federation line. Mine’s standard issue.” Tony wants to ask how he’s been calling Iron Man for years then, but then he remembers the conversation he overheard between Steve and Bucky outside his cell. This must be their solution.

 

“I can fix that for you,” Tony offers, he’s sure that he can. It shouldn’t be that difficult to disconnect Bucky’s PADD from the Federation. Tony’s already been moving through Starfleet’s systems for years without being detected. He already knows it, it shouldn’t take him long at all. “Give me a bit and I can make it non-Federation.”

 

Bucky perks up at that. Tony would be happy to see the look if it didn’t fill him with envy. “Really?”

 

“Should be easy enough for me. If you don’t mind?” Tony says as he gestures towards Bucky’s PADD.

 

Bucky nods eagerly and Tony’s jealousy flares up again, hot and persistent. He hates it, he hates that he has to be jealous of himself. “How long do you think it’ll take? I can come back in a couple days, or--”

 

Tony laughs as he takes Bucky’s PADD from him. It’s a quick job for him and there’s no way he’s letting Bucky go for a couple of days after he practically had to drag him to engineering through Iron Man. “I act like I’m a gift to the _Avenger_ for a reason. It’ll take me maybe half an hour at most, if I work really slow. Just sit tight and keep me company?”

 

Bucky looks surprised but he doesn’t question it as he sits down. Tony glances up at him, but Bucky doesn’t say anything, instead he’s looking around engineering and waiting patiently as Tony fiddles with his PADD. Tony works his way into Starfleet’s network quickly, the motions easy and practiced from years of tracking the _Avenger_ , of tracking Bucky. “Tell me about her.” He says, because the silence is unnerving and Bucky mentioned his sister so Tony thinks it’s a good a time as any to ask about her.

 

“What? Who?” Bucky asks, his gaze snapping back to Tony.

 

“Your sister.”

 

“Oh. Becca.” A look comes over Bucky’s face that he can’t quite place but it doesn’t seem like Tony has offended him by asking. “I don’t remember much. She was five. She was curious. About everything. Loved people, too. Could talk your ear off.” He scrunches up his nose after that one and pauses and then admits, “She was taller than me.”

 

Tony glances away from what he’s doing on the PADD to smile at Bucky. “So you’re saying she wouldn’t have arrested me if I had met her first then?”

 

“Dunno. You might’a gotten lucky,” Bucky says but he’s smiling. “I like to think I wasn’t the only Barnes with common sense, though.”

 

“What were the rest of the Barnes like then? How about your parents?” Tony doesn’t think he’s ever heard Bucky talk about them, not even as Iron Man.

 

That wipes the smile off of Bucky’s face quickly and he stares down at his metal hand which is still sparking at odd intervals. “Don’t know. Can’t remember them at all. I think back as hard as I can and it’s just…” He shrugs and stumbles for a moment. “Warmth and light. Like candles or a stove or somethin’. Seen pictures since but…”

 

Tony frowns at that. He doesn’t know what to do with it. Even with the vague description, warmth isn’t something he’s ever associated with his parents. He associated it with his mom at times, she was a warm and comforting presence throughout his life before he was exiled. Howard never was, Howard was cold and distant and never seemed to think of Tony as anything more than an heir. Didn’t think of him as a son, only as a way to continue the family line, as a way to make sure the future was secure, but that was it.

 

Bucky can’t even remember his parents, and all Tony can think is that they still seem better than his own.

 

“Is talking about my dead family part of your five year plan to win over my friendship?” Bucky asks, snapping Tony out of his thoughts, but Bucky is grinning at him.

 

Tony pushes the thoughts of his parents aside, it’s been months and it still hurts to think of them. Instead he grins back and says, “Yep, that and all of my charm.”

 

Bucky snorts, pauses and studies Tony for a second. “You really ain’t gunna ask if I’m assimilated, are you?”

 

Tony wants to laugh. Wouldn’t that be the most hypocritical thing he could do currently? He already knows how it feels to have people think that you’re assimilated because you have Borg tech. He can’t return home because of it, and he’s definitely not going to make Bucky go through that. Even if he didn’t already know from years of communicating with Bucky that he’s definitely not assimilated.

 

“Might be. Could be a Federation infiltrator. Built in sob story n’ everythin’,” Bucky says dryly.

 

“That’s not really how the Borg operate,” Tony says with a snort.

 

“How d’you know? Could be the new order.” Bucky smirks at him. “I’m top of the line.”

 

Tony bites his tongue at that remark. There are plenty of things that come to mind for a response, but Bucky hasn’t taken kindly to being hit on so far and he can’t think of anything that isn’t a line. “Top of the line and the Borg can’t fix your arm? Seems unlikely,” is what Tony ends up saying, it seems like the safest option.

 

“What can I say? I’m rebellious. They ain’t fond of it.”

 

Tony rolls his eyes as he gets rid of the remaining thread contacting Bucky’s PADD to the Federation. “Here. No more Federation line,” he says and hands Bucky the PADD.

 

Bucky smiles eagerly as he takes back the PADD. Tony can immediately see him opening up the video calling up that they use, and shooting for a message.

 

_Sir, you have a new message from Commander Barnes._

 

“There. Uh. Give ‘im a second and he’ll usually connect on his own.”

 

 _Yeah, go ahead and connect me, JARVIS._ Tony’s suddenly more grateful for Extremis than he normally is. He wouldn’t be able to pull this off without it. As it is, he’s able to send whatever he wants to say to Jarvis and have Jarvis send it through Iron Man.

 

 _Hi starling_ , Tony thinks as the animated Iron Man comes on screen and, sure enough, the words ' _Hi starling'_ appear on the screen as well.

 

Bucky’s entire face lights up as Iron Man comes on screen. Tony pushes down his jealousy even if it stings that Bucky will probably never look at him like that. Then he looks up at Tony and tries to conceal the look, embarrassed at being watched, Tony would find it cute if he weren’t trying to control his envy.

 

“Uh, Tony? Meet Iron Man. He’s friendly. Usually.”

 

* * *

 

 

**BUCKY**

 

“I’m friendly too,” Tony says, and Bucky realizes he didn’t account for the possibility that Iron Man and Tony would actually get along. “ _Usually_.”

 

“You got weird ideas of friendly,” Bucky gives Tony a pointed look meant to discourage the bantering and can already tell by the glimmer in Tony’s eyes that it’s been seen, acknowledged, and ignored. The tiny red and gold figurine flickers about the PADD screen, with new animations indicating speed or little clouds where the robot man had been standing. Bucky smiles down at it. “Doll, this is Tony. The guy I arrested.”

 

The little bot perks up, resting his chin in his blocky hands. A bunch of question marks fly out around him as he seems to study Tony’s face. Tony, in turn, mouths ‘ _doll?_ ’ at Bucky and Bucky can feel a flush creeping up the back of his neck. He’s about to go on a well-practiced rant about how the word can be used as a platonic term of endearment when aforementioned doll interrupts him with,  “The god?”

 

“The one and only,” Tony says with a bright grin and Bucky has visions of terrible puns raining down on him in waves.

 

“I already regret this.”

 

The little red and gold robot laughs, holding his sides as his shoulders shake. “We’ll be on our best behavior, Starling.”

 

“You promised that three years ago and I ain’t seen it yet,” Bucky drawls, unimpressed. “Now c’mon. You talked me into this. You gonna fix up my arm in time for Stevie’s wedding, or not?”

 

Small letter spelling ‘Ha! Ha! Ha!’ zoom out of the robot’s little mouth slot and dance above Iron Man’s head. “I was planning on it. Tony, Bucky says you’re an engineer?”

 

“Sure am.” Tony’s watching the little bot with a curious look. The wide-eyed curiosity is a good look on him, and it lends well to the mad scientist vibe Tony’s been cultivating since Bucky stepped through the door to Engineering.

 

“Great,” Iron Man says, but the letters and robotic voice fall a little flatter than normal. Bucky narrows his eyes at the camera lens that is still determinedly pointed at Tony. “Bucky’s arm has been acting up. Just need you to get in there and look around for any crossed wires or any connections that have been disconnected. I’d recommend starting in the joints. Do you need more specific instructions?”

 

The words come out almost terse and Bucky frowns. “Doll, play nice.”

 

Tony looks up at him, waves off Bucky’s concern and he seems genuinely unbothered. “Nope. Should be fine. I’ll let you know if I have questions. Do you have a schematic for me to look at while I work? It’ll help me make sense of things faster.”

 

For all Iron Man’s big show of telling Bucky to trust the new guy, he hadn’t expected to see the mechanic get jealous. Or territorial. Or whatever this was. Some part of him thrills at the idea that Iron Man could be jealous at all but a nearby part recoils at the idea that the contender for Bucky’s affections was _Tony_. Tony who apparently didn’t think twice about admitting being comfortable working with Borg tech.

 

“You’re tellin’ me that you’re fully comfortable with this kinda thing?” Bucky interrupts their information exchange, tone challenging. “Borg tech?”

 

“Starling,” the robot voice managed somehow to sound teasing. “Play _nice_.”

 

“I never said that,” Tony says, “Just asked you for the schematic. If I was fully comfortable I wouldn’t need it.” He pauses to scroll through the schematics, hovering over a graph about the pressure platelets. “I think I can wing it, though.”

 

Bucky’s jaw hangs open. “You’re gonna _wing it?_ ”

 

“Yep!” Tony grins. “I have your _doll_ here to help me through obstacles, don’t I?”

 

Bucky bristles.

 

“I’m watching everything,” Iron Man assures him. The animation shows a tiny version of Bucky with bright green cheeks smiling as Iron Man slings an arm around him. Bucky feels his own lips curl at the corners. “If I think there’s a danger to you or the arm, I will let you both know.”

 

Bucky chews on the inside of his cheek and keeps his smile at bay when the little Iron Man runs in protective circles around the cartoon version of himself. A gold and red thumbs up finally busts through the dam and Bucky breathes out. “Fine. Tell me we don’t gotta mess with the neural links?”

 

Iron Man moves in a blur to the other side of the screen, peering down at the schematics Bucky can vaguely see on Tony’s PADD. “That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” he says. “We shouldn’t have to for just this diagnostic, though.”

 

“I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with,” Tony’s voice pulls him out of his trance and Bucky looks up to see the mechanic watching him thoughtfully. Tony’s hands hover above the touch screen of the PADD, perfectly still, waiting for Bucky’s say so. Bucky’s taken aback by the sincerity in Tony’s face, the caution clearly written into his eyes. It isn’t the first time a technician has promised to let him guide the procedure, but it’s the first time Bucky finds himself believing the promise.

 

He swallows and nods. Tony’s fingers dance over the touchscreen and he’s caught up in the details of the schematic again.

 

“Where was that attitude when we first met?” Bucky teases, trying to brush aside the solemn look that’s come over Tony now.

 

He’s met with moderate success.

 

“I like seeing you riled up,” Tony grins down at the schematics and only spares Bucky a small knowing look before he dives back in. “This is different from then, though.”

 

Bucky nods, well aware that Tony wouldn’t catch the gesture but he couldn’t find the right words. He didn’t trust Tony. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But here, in the empty lab, baring the thing that had made him a spectacle for most of his life, he trusts Tony in this moment. Bucky chances a look at Iron Man, who’s animation was watching him curiously, hovering over Tony’s shoulder abandoned. The red and gold figure tilts his animated head at Bucky and somehow conveys the question ‘what is it, starling?’ without saying a word.

 

Or maybe it’s just wishful thinking on Bucky’s part.

 

He shakes his head, scoots to where he’s sitting across from Tony properly, and leverages his arm up on the workspace between them. It drops to the flat surface with a distressingly harsh thud and Bucky cringes. Tony looks up at it, then at Bucky, almost expectantly. Bucky nods slightly, trying to convey permission. Tony’s eyes widen just a little and Bucky bites back the sudden hurricane of nerves.

 

Tony’s snagging the attention of Iron Man again with some question about the schematics. He fumbles with the toolkit on the work table, lifts one of the top trays and rummages around until he’s got a thin metal pick in twirling between his fingers. He removes the first of the metal plates easily and places them gently to the side. The torque and dents are much clearer when Bucky can see the way they warp from the flat surface and the enormity of the ship crash just begins to land.

 

He’s survived another encounter with the Borg. They’d been close, firing distance close, to the family he’s spent a lifetime rebuilding. They could’ve taken Stevie from him. Or Nat. Bucky’s stomach twists uncomfortably, thinking of Polka who was probably napping up in her special built cat tower. Sleeping safe and sound, unaware of how close she’d been to seeing all the life she’d ever known ripped brutally out of existence.

 

Nightmares he’s been fighting since he was a kid peer out from the corner of his mind. He sees Tony talking excitedly to the little Iron Man figurine, both of them chattering away about some exciting aspect of the arm’s technology and he’s struck by how delicate they both are. How one squeeze of his fist could shatter the PADD screen into fragments; could crush Tony’s wrist to bonemeal. Just one movement, that’s all it would take. And how far away from reality he really is, with Borg tech already melded to his bones, wires already linked up to his brain. It was a miracle he hadn’t been assimilated the first time he was captured.

 

Now that he had another survived encounter under his belt, how long was it going to be until his luck ran out entirely?

 

Pain shoots through his shoulder sensors and Bucky yelps. He tugs his arm away from Tony, a knee-jerk reaction to keep the other man far away from the machinery that could hurt him. Bucky cradles his arm close to his chest, willing the sharp stinging to reside. Instead it spreads, shaped like the natural limb he should’ve had and he tries not to be bitter that his brain can still feel the echoes of pain but not the cradling.

 

“You okay, Starling?” Iron Man’s voice tries to pull him from his wallowing and Tony’s frozen in place again.

 

He has his hands raised in a half surrender, his eyes watching Bucky’s movement and face with unabashed concern. Bucky cringes. Bucky’s already lost his arm. It’s not like he’s in danger of losing it again. It’s Tony’s hands that are dancing between mechanical fingers that could turn into vices at the press of a wrong wire. And still Tony looks like he might place both feet directly in his mouth again and start apologizing.

 

“S’fine,” Bucky grits out. He lays his arm back down on the surface and avoids looking at either of his companions. He doesn’t explain his decision to lay the arm face down. Knows that Iron Man is all too aware of his fears. Tony could figure out out, probably. “Prolly nothin’.”

 

“Tony, do you think you can find the source of that?” Just like Iron Man to already be hoping to fix the problem.

 

Tony’s watching with more caution. _Good_ , Bucky thinks. _That’s a wise approach_.

 

“Yeah, I think I can,” Tony affirms, but he doesn’t reach out to put his hands on Bucky’s arm again. He just stares at Bucky, waiting. “Are you okay with me continuing?”

 

Bucky tries to grin and thinks it might’ve come out more like a grimace. “Think I’d be real pissed if you didn’t.”

 

Some of the caution leaves Tony’s features when he laughs and Bucky weakly mirrors a smile.

 

“Steve’s wedding is next week, right?” Iron Man pops up in his peripheral, all a ball of gold and red excitement. It’s a distraction and Bucky’s grateful for it.

 

“Two days,” Bucky confirms. He pauses. “Shit, still gotta pick up some shoes.”

 

“Make sure you find ones that are good for dancing,” Iron Man instructs him and Bucky feels a smile threatening to crinkle the edges of his eyes as a cartoon Bucky bows low to a delighted Iron Man. “You still owe me a dance, you know.”

 

“Yeah?” The pain isn’t as bad as it was initially, but Bucky can still feel the crushing feeling in the arm that doesn’t exist anymore, bouncing back and forth from where the prosthetic connects to the rest of him like the world’s least welcome ping pong ball. He pushes his breath out and tries to focus. His animated doppelganger takes Iron Man by the hand and guides him gently around in a circle before pulling him in close to waltz. Little hearts fly out of the red and gold helmet and float up the screen. Bucky feels his expression soften. “You actually gonna show this time?”

 

Iron Man spins out, and twirls back into Bucky’s grasp, content to be held by one greenish arm and one shining metal arm. His chest heaves a sigh and he tilts his head back on Bucky’s animated shoulder. Bucky’s animated counterpart flickers and disappears.

 

“You know I can’t, starling.”

 

Another wave of pain rolls through him and Bucky struggles not to shudder. Iron Man moves as close to the edge of the screen as he can, one hand resting on the glass as if he were reaching for Bucky. Bucky can hear the sped up stammer even in the robotic voice and knows Iron Man is trying to distract him. He’s grateful for it.  

 

“Ain’t gunna stop me from holdin’ out hope, doll. C’mon. Tell me more. You said you’re a dancer right?”

 

“I said I was good at dancing,” The gold faceplate winks. Bucky puffs out a laugh and immediately regrets it for the agony that spills inside him. He leans over the work table and focuses on his breathing.  “You never told me if you are though.”

 

“That’s it? You gunna show up as my date just to ridicule me?” The words come out a little more bitter than he means them and Bucky decides to blame it on the circumstance. He fakes another laugh through clenched teeth, and stares into the camera lens. As if looking away from what Tony’s doing will somehow negate it. He watches the tiny lens adjust on his face as he speaks. “Some date you are.”

 

A sharp pang rides up his spine like lightning and Bucky’s hand spasms into a fist, denting the metal surface beneath it. He spares it a glance, but his focus is violently readjusted to rest entirely on Tony. He’s jumped a little bit, moving backwards by only a couple inches, but nothing’s crushed. No blood, no bruises. The relief that sinks into Bucky is bone deep.

 

Tony’s hands hover above his arm, metal pick still grasped firmly in one. He looks at Bucky, eyes full of concern.

 

“S’fine,” Bucky grits out. Tony does not look convinced. “Go ahead. Just need a distraction. I’m fine.”

 

“I promised a dance. I never said anything about being a good date,” Iron Man blessedly continues without acknowledging the incident. Could’ve been because he couldn’t see it, but Bucky’s long since learned to assume that Iron Man picks up on more than most of his contacts likely give him credit for.

 

Bucky snorts. “Yeah, well. Jokes on you.  Stevie’s already got someone fillin’ in for ya.”

 

Tony stays silent, completely occupied with whatever it is he’s doing with that loose panel and Bucky realizes that Steve, a filthy liar who lies, absolutely did not tell Tony about his _brilliant idea_.

 

“He… told you, didn’t he?” Bucky tries anyway. He already knows the answer (confirmed by Tony’s blank look) but he was hoping he was wrong.

 

“What?”  

 

“Goddamnit, Stevie,” Bucky groans and lets himself slump forward on the table a little. The metal on metal screeches and makes his teeth feel funny, but it’s better than trying to hold himself upright while his arm is still determined to will its way back into existence through raw agony.

 

“That bracelet,” Bucky says by way of explanation. “Means you gotta be within 100 meters of one of us. Stevie’s gettin’ married in two days and I’m his best man. Meanin’ we’re leavin’ the Avenger, so you gotta come with us. Steve thought it’d be real clever to tell my Ma that you were my date, instead of technically a prisoner on parole. So…”

 

He trails off awkwardly. A grin stretches slowly over Tony’s features as a little blue sad face pops up in a dialogue box next to Iron Man.

 

“Replacing me already?” The little red and gold man somehow manages to encompass heartbreak. His shoulders hunch forward and he slumps to the floor of the PADD screen, clutching at his chest like he’s been shot. A tiny heartbreak bubble appears seconds later and Bucky would scoff if it wouldn’t hurt like a bitch to do so.

 

“I think I can manage to be a good date,” Tony hums, looking pleased with himself. “No guarantees on the dancing, though.”

 

“It’s not a real date, don’t worry,” Bucky says all too quickly. Christ, of course Steve had forgotten to tell Tony. Bucky wonders if the amount of paperwork for ‘accidental fraternization with Federation captives’ is more or less than 50. He thinks of his Ma, and the excited look she gets on her face every time Bucky brings someone home (something that’s been getting rarer and rarer) and winces in a way that has nothing to do with the arm. “Though we may gotta pretend.”

 

Iron Man spins and collapses on the screen. Flashing gold letters reading “K.O.” float above his fallen from, where stars and birds circle him like a halo.

 

“See, that’s what happens when you stand me up for three years,” Bucky says smugly. Iron Man lifts his head and somehow makes the mask’s features look grumpy.

 

“You go and find gods to arrest and make them pretend to date you? I have to say, it’s the most creative way you’ve tried to get me to stop standing you up so far.”

 

Tony laughs and Bucky breathes slowly through another wave of pain. The distraction is helping.

 

“Yeah, well,” Bucky waggles his eyebrows at the screen. “Did it work?”

 

“No.” Iron Man’s head _thunks_ back down on the animated ground. “Have fun, Tony.”

 

Worry seizes Bucky’s heart. “Shit. You’re not actually upset, are ya, doll?”

 

Iron Man sits up again and a single red heart floats out from the center of his chest. “Of course not. I trust you.”

 

Bucky’s gut churns through a particularly bad wave and he feels his fingers dig into the table like it’s made of foam instead of metal. A cry tears through him before he can stop it and he brings up his human hand to clamp down over his mouth. His eyes squeeze shut and he hears Tony apologize, mutter something about ‘ _found it_ ’ and rattle off specs to Iron Man. The pain of it is making him dizzy though, and he swallows hard against a throb of nausea sitting threateningly at the top of his throat.

 

Eventually it resides, til it’s just the same dull ache. But even that is gradually subsiding. Tony and Iron Man are still chattering away, neither ever actually finishing their sentences before the other chimes in and takes control of the thought. The way they go through analytics and tests at the speed of light leaves Bucky reeling, unable to catch the specifics of anything they’re saying and feeling like he’s being pulled behind a high speed boat, barely able to keep himself above the water and tempted to just let himself sink under it all and let it wash over him. He wants to get lost in it, revel in the feeling of the pain being leached away from him with such expertise that the relief makes him shake.

 

Finally, the pain is gone and he relaxes further onto the table. The far end of it is bent into finger shaped curves but the surface is still cool and Bucky will worry about the property damage later. It’s his own damn ship anyway.

 

“Shit,” he croaks, still trying to catch his breath. “Remind me to tell Wilson to stop crashin’ my damn ship.”

 

Tony pauses in whatever he was saying to Iron Man to give Bucky an amused look. “Does he crash it often?”

 

Iron Man laughs and Bucky grumbles, “Not if I got anythin’ to say about it.”

 

“How’s the arm feeling?” Iron Man got both hands pressed up against the PADD screen and the tapping animation comes with tnk-tnk-tnk sounds to grab bucky’s attention. “That any better?”

 

Bucky smiles at him, unable to keep some of the exhaustion out of the corners of it. “ Yeah, doll. Much better.”

 

The plating isn’t screwed back in yet, but Bucky wiggles his fingers methodically. He twists his forearm and bends his elbow slightly. His arm whirrs happily; no more ominous clicking or clanking. And no sparks. That’s always good.

 

“Good,” Iron Man says through a small flurry of smiley faces, hearts and stars. He nods once at Bucky, “I’ll have to end the call now,” then turns to Tony and nods to him too. “Thanks, Tony.”

 

Tony gives the PADD an almost shy smile, and the expression looks so foreign on his face that Bucky momentarily forgets that Iron Man’s hanging up for the night.

 

“I’ll talk to you later, starling,” Iron Man says, and Bucky rewards the pet name with a bright smile.

 

“See you, doll,” Bucky gives the camera a little wave with his repaired hand.

 

The ‘END CALL?’ box appears where it always does, and Iron Man leaps up to press it before disappearing in a poof of red and gold glitter. Bucky stares for a second. Sometimes Iron Man will tack on an ending animation, or a message for him, but there’s nothing this time around. Probably because Tony’s still there, Bucky reasons.

 

Nothing happens, so Bucky closes the program and gently presses the power button on his PADD until it shuts down completely. Tony’s silent watching as he does so, almost looking nervous. Bucky feels his own anxiety drumming ominously.

 

“Still alright keepin’ all that a secret?” he asks, shooting Tony a wary look.

 

Tony could go blab about everything he’d seen and honestly Bucky was still sure he would be fine--it was the word of a prisoner against a Starfleet Commander with a spotless record. But it would end in Tony getting arrested for real, interrogated, and likely sequestered somewhere where he couldn’t spill about Starfleet’s officer with Borg Tech. Tony may still be a stranger, but Bucky wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

 

But instead of acting like he’s been reminded of the huge risk Bucky’s landed in his lap, Tony just laughs. “You think I’m going to change my mind now?”

 

Bucky rubs at his metal wrist and grins a little in response. It’s psychosomatic, he knows that. Still helps. “Dunno. Still tryin’ to figure you out. Does that mean you haven’t?”

 

“I haven’t changed my mind,” Tony shrugs, looking unbothered. His lips twitch to the side and his brows furrow. Bucky tries to follow whatever’s going through the other man’s head but like Tony and Iron Man’s conversation earlier, he finds himself left in the dust as emotions flicker across Tony’s features. Finally, Tony says, “It’d be hypocritical of me to tell people your secret anyway.”

 

That throws Bucky for a loop. He blinks a couple times, trying to parse out the meaning of the words and coming up blank. “What?”

 

Tony’s chewing on his lower lip now, shooting Bucky nervous looks. Something about it feels wrong. Tony’s not lying, that’s not it. Bucky struggles to pick up on the details, trying to parse it out like code. “Truth or lie. I tried running away from home when I was 8.”

 

That again. Bucky’s frown deepens. He’s not sure how he feels about Tony’s honesty coming in the form of a game, but it’s also the only way he’s been able to successfully pry information from the man.

 

“That’s…” Bucky doesn’t say ‘true.’ Doesn’t need to. “Tony, you okay?”

 

“Come on, humor me,” Tony says with a weak grin and Bucky tries to mirror it.

 

“Like I ever do anything but.” Bucky shifts where he’s sitting to face Tony more properly. “Fine. That was the truth.”

 

Tony doesn’t nod or anything, just launches into the next line and Bucky’s jaw nearly drops through the floor.

 

“I’ve never had an encounter with the Borg.”

 

 _Lie_.

 

He can feel it in every fiber of his being. It radiates off Tony like waves of poison. It sits wrong in the air between them, heavy and uncomfortable. _Lying_ , Bucky thinks again, trying to reel his mind under control from the shock of it. _Tony’s encountered the Borg. Tony’s encountered the Borg and lived. The Borg that attacked them, that had them crashing into RK-702, not a coincidence--_  

 

“You’re lying,” Bucky says quietly.

 

Tony looks even more nervous. He stands up, moving away from the table, and runs a hand over his chest like he’s short of breath. Bucky follows the movement with his eyes, acutely aware that he’d come to engineering unarmed. If Tony had a phaser on him somewhere--

 

“Yeah. I am.” Tony nods, but the gesture is self-soothing. Bucky can’t look away. “Last one. You ready?”

 

Bucky’s on his feet in seconds, taking a slow step away from the table. He keeps his eyes on Tony’s hands, one fidgeting nervously at his side and the other pressed over his heart.

 

“Shit,” Bucky laughs hollowly. He’s about to get attacked by the Borg for the third time. Has his luck run out finally? Was this the time he didn’t survive?

 

“That’s not an answer, Commander,” Tony says with an obviously fake grin and Bucky hates it. Hates the way the word ‘Commander’ sits on Tony’s lips. It’s wrong.

 

“Was trusting you a mistake?” Bucky snaps. He scans his environment. Decent amount of cover. No weapons in sight. He could throw a wrench pretty hard, probably.

 

Tony stills, quiet and pale at Bucky’s words. He looks away, focusing on the control panels and screens leading down a long winding hallway to the engine room. “Truth or lie,” he says quietly, and Bucky can feel it’s the truth before Tony speaks.

 

But Tony doesn’t speak. The hand over his heart moves slowly to the buttons on his shirt, flicking the top one open with ease, his other hand joining the process and Bucky’s mind blanks out. Is he hiding a weapon? Again, Bucky looks around him to see if there’s anything he can grab, anything to defend himself with, and when he looks back at Tony something blue catches his eye.

 

Sitting in the center of Tony’s chest, surrounded by gnarled scars is a circular blue light. It’s encased in glass, circled by silver metals. Small tubes curl around the rim at odd intervals, leading from the glowing center and diving back down under Tony’s skin.

 

“This is Borg tech.”

 

Bucky’s frozen to the spot. He can’t breathe, can’t believe what his eyes are telling him. His own hands open and close on thin air, and he wants to… Bucky doesn’t know what he wants. Doesn’t know what to do with what’s in front of him. But it’s the truth. Tony’s words, claiming that the shining core where his heart should be is--

 

“You going to ask if I’m assimilated?” Tony says through a bitter laugh. Bucky’s eyes flicker back up to Tony’s face and he looks tired. More tired than when he’d woken up in the holding cell of the Avenger. Older. Like Bucky’s expression was nothing out of the ordinary. Like he was expecting the attack to come, waiting for Bucky to treat him like a threat.

 

It was the same way doctors looked at Bucky’s arm.

 

“What? No! That’s--” The words choke off before he can get them out.

 

The glow is unsteady, he realizes. Pulsating just slightly, brightening and dimming like a heartbeat. It’s beautiful. Tony’s staring up at him under thick lashes, nerves more fitting to what they should’ve been the day Bucky had levelled his phaser on him, but there was no fearlessness this time. No jokes, no mischievous grin. Tony looks open and vulnerable and _scared_. The soft blue glow lights the underside of his features and it suits him, Bucky thinks. For as wrong as the piece is for carving out a painful hole in Tony’s chest, it seems to match the rest of him like a missing puzzle piece. Like the Tony Bucky had been seeing before had been through hazy fog or dim lighting and he was seeing the whole picture now. And it’s beautiful. Like Tony himself, the blue glow is beautiful.

 

“It’s not possible. I thought… I thought I was…” The words sound weak as Bucky says them and he’s not sure how to change that. Not sure how to articulate that he knows what it’s like to have someone stare at a part of you like it might bite.

 

“Are you okay?” Tony’s frowning at him, and Bucky nearly laughs. What the hell kind of person makes themselves that vulnerable then worries about their audience?

 

Bucky’s hand had reached out without his meaning to do so and he pulls it back against his chest, cradling it there with his metal one. He forces himself to look away from the Borg tech, to look back into Tony’s scared eyes and tries to offer a reassuring smile. “Nah, I ain’t okay. Thought I was alone, s’all.”

 

He pauses, trying to pick out the right words. He looks down at his own arm, fixed up and functional thanks to the man standing in front of him and he doesn’t think he can fathom the odds of having met him at all. Tony, the impossible hitchhiker with Borg tech in his chest. Tony who fixed his arm and kept his secrets, no questions asked. A lot of Tony’s skittishness was starting to make sense.

 

Bucky watched Tony carefully and moved around the side of the table, wanting to be closer. He could see little bits of the light coming from inside the glass panel. Something swirled around the edges like a whirlpool, and strands of metal lit up and dimmed in time with it. He takes another step towards Tony and Tony looks like he might bolt at any second so Bucky stills.

 

“Can I…?” Bucky lost the request mid-way through, but looks to Tony for an answer nonetheless.

 

Tony’s eyebrows rocket upwards in surprise. He watches Bucky warily, eyes flickering over Bucky’s Borg arm, to his face, unmistakably checking his hip for a phaser holster, then settling on Bucky’s eyes again. Tony blinks rapidly a few times and nods, shaky. “Go ahead. Seems fair since I spent so long tinkering with yours.”

 

Bucky barely hears anything after ‘go ahead’ and reaches out with his human hand, careful to keep the Borg arm safely at his side. He presses two fingers to the edge of the glass and it’s warm. He traces around the shining metal, feeling the scratches and dents in it where the scar tissue is bunched up at its worst.

 

“Does it hurt you?” Bucky’s voice is barely a whisper, but somehow still seems too loud.

 

Tony shakes his head. “No. It used to give me more problems but I’ve fixed that since.”

 

Bucky nods, overwhelmed by all of it. “I’m not alone,” he mutters. A whole universe out there and Bucky has always assumed he was the only one to survive a Borg attack with a souvenir as unique as his arm. He figured that if there had been others, maybe Starfleet wouldn’t have treated him like a lab rat. Wouldn’t have needed the specialists. That a universe that had need for Iron Man was surely one small enough that Bucky had given up hope that maybe someone out there understood.

 

God and Iron Man; of _course_ Tony had been familiar with the name. Bucky wonders if that was even the first time Tony had ever contacted Iron Man. Maybe that was why he hadn’t been spooked by Bucky’s arm. That had to be why.

 

That Tony has this, whatever it is, puts Tony’s whole personality into perspective. That Tony’s been brave enough to tamper with it, to mess with something so close to his heart--suddenly, facing down an attacking Starfleet officer without fear makes considerably more sense. He looks up into Tony’s eyes again and his heart drops at the fear still settled there.

 

“Holy shit. Sorry,” Bucky cringes. “You’ve survived somethin’ awful and all I can think about is how I ain’t alone in the universe. Fuck, I’m sorry--”

 

He moves to take his hand away but Tony stops him, wrapping a hand around Bucky’s wrist and catching at the edge of his sleeve. He can actually feel Tony’s chest shake with laughter under his fingertips.

 

“It’s fine,” Tony says, and his smile sets Bucky’s head spinning. Tony’s hand trails down his wrist until he can press his palm to the back of Bucky’s hand and gently hold it to the tech embedded in his skin. “I’m glad I’m not alone as well--”

 

Whatever else Tony was going to say halts at the tip of his tongue. His eyes widen and his jaw drops open. Bucky frowns, not understanding, then feels Tony’s skin shift against his own and blanches. He realizes what’s happening just seconds before Tony pitches forward and catches him before he can hit the floor.

 

Bucky hisses under his breath, and adjusts so that he doesn’t have a metal elbow digging into Tony’s gut. Hopefully that didn’t bruise too badly. One arm hard enough to break bone on impact, the other constantly running risk of accidentally goddamn mind melding to anyone he touches. Given how emotional he’d been, it’s honestly no wonder and he cringes thinking how hard it probably impacted Tony. Tony who’d been so trusting and now Bucky’s gone and psychologically intruded on him. Bucky swears loudly.

 

Tony’s still hanging limp in his grasp, and Bucky shakes him a little.

 

“I’m so sorry, Tony. Tony?” he tries, knowing full well that Tony’s out cold. “You with me, pal?”

 

No response. Bucky sighs. He tilts Tony backwards a little and scoops an arm up under Tony’s knees. Tony sags in his grasp like a ragdoll, head tucking up under Bucky’s chin. Bucky puffs out a breath, trying to prevent those dark curls from pushing past his lips and only somewhat succeeding.

 

 _Well, now what Commander?_ Bucky thinks irritably. It’s not like he could take Tony to the medical bay. The faint blue glow shoos away that option without room for negotiation. Even if Tony hadn’t just trusted him with something enormous, Bucky wasn’t going to subject him to being part of Starfleet’s list of classified people. Wasn’t going to subject the man to being treated like a weapon when he had been so kind to Bucky.

 

That left bringing Tony back to his quarters to recover. Bucky cringed. Tony’s roommates would probably have questions. Questions that Bucky didn’t think he could answer. Or at least answer convincingly.

 

Bucky’s own quarters it was, then.

 

* * *

 

 

**TONY**

“--need you to wake up for me,” Tony hears Bucky’s voice comes through a haze as he wakes.

 

He opens his eyes slightly to see Bucky standing in front of him before letting them close shut again. It’s too difficult to keep them open. He’s overcome by the feeling of warmth that encompasses him and the soft feelings of whatever he’s laying on. He tries to make sense of his thoughts, tries to remember where he is or how he got here.

 

But it’s difficult to do as a fuzzy feeling at the back of his mind demands his attention, pulling him away from his own thoughts, urging him, pleading that it’s immediate, and as fuzzy as it is and as much as Tony can’t make sense of it, it’s bright and kind and he feels himself letting it wash over him as a comfort.

 

 _Jarvis?_ Tony manages to ask before forcing open his eyes again.

 

_Sir, I recommend you get some rest, I’m afraid I’m getting some inconsistent data with your vitals._

 

Tony should probably be more concerned with that, but the fuzzy feeling at the back of his mind feels reassuring, like everything will be fine, like he doesn’t have to worry about what Jarvis is telling him.

 

He opens his eyes and stares at Bucky. He manages to mumble out, “What happened?”

 

Bucky winces for a moment. “Skin contact. I think I, uh. Accidentally…” He looks concerned, Tony hasn’t seen that on him since the trial on RK-702 when he cut Tony’s foot. That’s the only sign of concern that he’s shown for Tony and Tony hadn’t been expecting it to return. In fact he was bracing himself for Bucky not caring for him at all once they were back on the ship.

 

The fuzzy feeling at the back of his mind protests loudly at the thought and Tony ignores it as his memories rush in with what happened.

 

He’s not entirely sure why he showed Bucky the arc reactor but he doesn’t have a good reason to hide it. It’s not something that can be easily traced back to him as the prince and it _definitely_ cannot be traced back to Iron Man. He figures that it was a calculated risk. Bucky’s face as he looked at it was worth it. That if he had any other Borg parts that he could show off he would, if it made Bucky feel less alone in the universe.

 

Except then Tony had gone and touched him.

 

“Shit. Sorry. Vulcan. I forgot.”

 

Bucky lets out a bitter laugh, and then looks down at his hands frowning at them before waving Tony off. “Shoulda been wearin’ my gloves anyway. It was my fault. How are you feeling? ”

 

Tony tries to search for an answer to that, he’s not sure how he’s feeling, he feels like he should be feeling worse, like something more should be wrong, like he should be more worried but the fuzzy feeling is telling him that everything’s fine and he finds himself trusting it easily.

 

“I don’t know,” Tony answers honestly. “Tired. Everything seems slow.” He doesn’t mention the fuzziness. He needs more data on that and can’t figure out how to even begin to articulate it.

 

Bucky cringes. “Yeah, that’s…That’s normal,” Tony suddenly feels a warmth leap into his lap, He doesn’t question it. “Aw, Polka, no, knock it off--” Bucky moves to move Polka off of Tony.  Tony’s seen pictures of Polka, some of his favorite pictures of Bucky are ones of him and Polka. “I’m sorry, she just get curious and--”

 

Tony pets her and Bucky stops as Polka starts purring loudly enough that Tony can feel the action vibrate through him. “It’s okay. I think she likes me.”

 

Tony looks down at her as he pets her and watches her curl up in a ball.

 

But that’s not what catches his eye. He’s suddenly very aware of the fact that he is in Bucky’s room. Bucky’s room which features blankets on his bed that have the same cat paw print pattern that Tony saw on his pajamas.

 

He’s in Bucky’s room, he’s in Bucky’s bed, and he’s petting Bucky’s cat under Bucky’s paw print quilt.

 

All of Tony’s lovesick feelings that he’s been trying desperately to ignore coming flooding back to the top. He’s too tired to ignore them, he’s too tired to remember why this probably isn’t the situation in which he hoped he would find himself in this position. But the fuzzy feeling at the back of his mind spreads warmth and happiness through him at the lovesick thoughts and it’s difficult to make sense of what’s actually wrong with the situation with that present. So Tony lets out a slow grin, and smiles at Bucky dopily, in a way that he’s sure the love and longing is displayed on his face for everyone to see, but he can’t control it, can’t be bothered to try and mask it.

 

“Am I in your room?” Tony asks.

 

If Bucky’s able to read anything on Tony’s face, he doesn’t say anything about it. Instead he returns his own grin and Tony can see some relief seep in. As though Tony teasing him is the most reassuring thing that he’s done since he’s woken up. “If you tattle on me ’bout the cat, I’ll never forgive you.”

 

Bucky stares down at Polka, who still has not moved from Tony’s lap and furrows his brows. Tony wants to laugh, from the stories that he heard about Polka as Iron Man he hadn’t expected this friendliness, and it doesn’t seem like Bucky had either. Tony happily thinks that at least _someone_ likes him on the _Avenger._ He gets another loud protest from the fuzziness at that as it grows louder and more persistent.

 

Bucky looks away from Polka and back up to Tony, concern flooding his features again. “You better get some rest. Sleep it off, yeah?”

 

“Okay, Commander,” Tony manages to mumble out even though his eyes have already fallen shut. He forces them back up for a moment so he can look at Bucky once more, he’s certain that he won’t get to see this side of Bucky again for a while and he wants to savor it even though everything in him is shouting to rest.

 

Bucky gives him a look that he doesn’t recognize, one that he hasn’t directed at Tony before and if Tony didn’t know better he’d say it’s fond. The fuzziness now feels frustrated at Tony’s thoughts, like Tony is missing something entirely and he’s already getting annoyed of it. But it keeps coming in clearer and clearer the more that he focuses on it.

 

“It’s, uh. Actually it’s Bucky,” Bucky says and then lets out a laugh. “Think we’re past ‘commander’ at this point, don’t you?”

 

Tony lets out a slow soft smile as he turns on his side, pressing his cheek into Bucky’s pillow. Everything smells like Bucky in here. “And all I had to do to get past that point is some accidental skin contact and getting into your bed.” Tony tries to wink but his eyes ending up falling shut as he does and he can’t find the energy needed to open them again.

 

He hears Bucky let out another laugh, one that’s genuine and washes over him as Tony feels himself starting to drift off, the sound of Bucky’s voice becoming more distant. “Don’t push your luck. Polka put in a good word. I’ll uh. I’ll be floatin’ around the bridge if you need anything’. Alright?”

 

Tony nods as he lets out an ‘okay’ in response. He hears the opening and closing of the door shortly after as he gives into the warm, calming feeling that the fuzziness at the back of his mind keeps providing. As though it’s promising to watch over him and protect him as he sleeps.

 

For the first time in a long while, it’s not light that wakes him up; not really. Not natural lighting, at least. Even after fleeing Albion and landing on RK-702, Tony had woken up to the glow of sunlight and there’s none of that in Bucky’s quarters. The whole cabin is set to black out, presumably to let him sleep for longer but that insistent feeling that came with sunlight was still tugging at his consciousness, refusing to let him rest.

 

 _Jarvis? Is that you?_ He asks.

 

There’s no response. Something sounding like a needle against glass screeches to life next to his ear and Tony sits bolt upright. He hears Polka skitter off the bed in alarm but can’t adjust his eyesight quickly enough to follow where she goes. Next to him is just blank wall, beige and boring. Nothing that could’ve made that sound. Tony frowns.

 

The emergency lighting in the cabinet is still a benign yellow and it trails around the floors like the cabin in a cheap shuttle airline but it’s not nearly enough to light up the room clearly enough that he could make out the details of the plaster in the wall. But he can. He can tell it’s--

 

\-- _calcium sulfate dihydrate, twice layered, once five years ago and another patch laid down less than a year ago when a metal thumb tack threatened the structural integrity of it, cracking and splintering up, up, up_ \--

 

Tony shakes his head.

 

 _Jarvis?_ Tony tries again. _Have you started analyzing drywall while I nap?_

 

 _Sir--!_ Jarvis’ voice sounds crackled and Tony doesn’t the need his warning. _Your heart rate is increasing rapidly and Extremis is-- Extremis is-- Extremis is--_

 

Infinite loop. Jarvis’ voice cuts out suddenly and Tony’s head is silent again. He feels like he should probably be more concerned, but the calming feeling from before he fell asleep is still present and he can’t find the worry and caution he should probably be feeling. Polka meows and it reverberates in a way it shouldn’t.

 

Tony looks around the cabin wildly for some kind of comm he can borrow, some kind of emergency alert and the cabin slowly grows lighter. At first he thinks he’s going to black out, that the spots in his eyes are just a part of whatever this is and that panics him more until his eyes settle on the thin strip of light coming unmistakably from the closet door. Tony stares at it and again there’s that needle-on-glass sound echoing somewhere under his gut, up to the tips of his ears, and off a little bit to the right.

 

He’s reeling from the sensations, but he somehow gets his feet under him and staggers towards the closet.

 

 _Sir!_ Jarvis’ voice claws through the chaos in-between his ears and Tony nearly cries out at the relief of the clarity amongst the cacophony. _Sir! I cannot advise--! I cannot advise--!_

 

 _Not helping, J,_ Tony thinks irritably.

 

The light under the door shouldn’t have a sound to it but it does. Tony can hear it like a siren’s call and the second the cool metal handle is under his grip something that feels like safety and tastes like lavender washes over him. He sighs and tugs sharply.

 

Tiny lights escape first in a small trickle. They wrap around Tony’s heart, whirring when they come close enough to his ears and the pattern in how they fly makes it sound like little almost intelligible whispers. As they zoom past him they flash little feelings into him like a film onto a projector screen.

 

 _\--giddy proud surprised loving warm_ ** _ours_** **_ours ours_** _-_ -

 

He can feel them like breath on his neck and realizes as a small approximation of a black hole nips at the back of his neck that all of them are stars. Some are dwarf stars glowing bright and white, while others are red giants that flicker burn an ominous tone, sometimes taking that looming violence and bursting into a supernova before Tony’s eyes. Twin stars swim around each other like tops and Tony realizes they’re all settling into the space of Bucky’s room. If it still is Bucky’s room. He can barely make out the details of it and is vaguely aware of the feel of carpet underneath his back but the stars won’t settle down.

 

The humming starts to sound more human, sounds more like voices and Tony thinks he can feel Jarvis struggling to translate them. He catches syllables at first, tidbits and gibberish and Tony tries with everything he can to focus on what he’s supposed to be hearing. On any of the impossibility waxing and waning in the spread of an entire universe contained in a single Starfleet commander’s quarters and Tony can’t help but laugh at the idea that he might be a bit _starstruck_.

 

The stars don’t slow, they don’t still, but they seem to find their home in the space they’re given and the vibrating gets so loud in Tony’s head that he has to hold his hands up over his ears to keep it from spilling out.

 

Then it stops.

 

Everything is completely silent.

 

The stars twinkle above him with purpose, then glow a little brighter together in unison. And they talk to him. There’s no other word for it. Even if it feels like a thousand voices echoing approximations of speech couldn’t possibly qualify as talking, they do.

 

**_Good morning, little prince. Will you help us?_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys may have noticed, but [Kamaete](thegoldenavenger.tumblr.com) has been officially added as a co-creator! They've been doodling some [seriously amazing stuff](http://thegoldenavenger.tumblr.com/post/163120591895/some-fanart-for-ivoughrie-and-getmcfuckeds) and I cannot emphasize enough how much Ivo and I adore them soooOO. You should go check out their work. Amongst their work is [a prank](http://thegoldenavenger.tumblr.com/post/163684942200/getmcfucked-ivoughrie-and-i-were-talking-about) [we decided to pull](https://getmcfucked.tumblr.com/post/163773645137/thegoldenavenger-always-honored-to-illustrate-my) during the creation of this chapter about fake spoilers concerning chapter 4. The prank involves formal assless chaps and royal tramp stamps. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope this chapter was worth the wait and we are so ready to hear all your theories and questions. Next chapter: Steve and Sam's wedding!
> 
>  
> 
> [Here's an actual bonafide photograph of Bucky Barnes throughout this chapter.](http://www.writeups.org/wp-content/uploads/The-Will-Saga-Lying-Cat-a.jpg)

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to [Ivo](ivoughrie.tumblr.com) and [me](getmcfucked.tumblr.com) on tumblr! Or, come join the cool kids on [the 18+ Winteriron server](https://discord.gg/A32YB6Y). Click that link, and we'll meet you in the welcome channel to get you all set up! (Don't be scared, Discord may look intimidating but we promise it's super easy to use.) 
> 
> And again, all our love and thanks to [Amethystina](http://archiveofourown.org/users/amethystina) for betaing and leaving the greatest comments known to man.


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